Genius at Work
by MadLori
Summary: In "How to Fight Loneliness" we saw Emily's view of how she and Reid fell in love through flashbacks and recollections. This story retells and expands on their romantic beginnings, from Reid's point of view. Companion piece to HTFL.
1. Chapter 1

_In "How to Fight Loneliness," we first meet Reid and Prentiss already married. Through the course of that story, we learn through Emily's recollections how their relationship changed and evolved. This story retells the evolution of their romance...from Reid's point of view.  
_

* * *

**Chapter 1**

* * *

_He put the files in his bag and Emily walked with him to the door. He had his hand on the knob before he paused, took a deep breath, and turned back. "Emily..."_

__

She shook her head. "It's okay."

"I'm sorry if I was..."

She held up a hand, cutting him off, then stood on tiptoe and placed a kiss on his lips, quick but deliberate. "I said it's okay." She put her hand on his chest, a gesture just a shade too intimate for friends-only coworkers. "I'm not sorry."

He searched her face with those giant, dark eyes like he was looking for the truth underneath her skin. "Me neither," he finally said.

_-How to Fight Loneliness, Chapter 3_

_

* * *

_

Reid somehow got into the hallway without making an ass of himself, or at least he hoped so. He heard Emily putting the chain on her door.

_Get away from the door, genius. What if she looks through the peephole and sees you just standing out here like a creepy stalker?_

__

Why would she look out the peephole? She's probably going to bed.

She might, to see if you ARE standing out here like a creepy stalker.

_It's more likely that right now she's washing her face, or brushing her teeth...getting undressed..._

Reid shook himself and practically ran the short distance to his own door. He fumbled with his keycard, dropping it once, and finally made it into the safety of his room. He set down his bag, stuffed full of folders and photos, and sank down on the bed, scarcely able to believe what had just happened.

_I kissed Emily. She kissed me back, too. It actually seemed like she wanted to be kissing me._

__

She'll sleep on it and tomorrow we'll have that "it can never happen again" talk. She'll wake up and it'll be daylight and she'll wonder what the hell she did. Just prepare yourself.

But she said – she said she wasn't sorry.

Maybe she isn't sorry NOW.

_I just really want to go back down to her room, grab her and kiss her some more, and do some other things to her that she'll probably never want me to do, ever._

Reid had always thought Emily was beautiful. How could he not? It wasn't as though this was a subjective observation. On any empirical scale, she was beautiful. Even if she wasn't someone's type, they'd agree that she was beautiful. Reid didn't know if he _had_ a type. He'd never noticed that he was attracted to any particular set of physical characteristics with greater frequency than any other set. But Emily wasn't just beautiful, she was smart and funny and tough-minded, she cared about people and she was unexpectedly nerdy in a way that was often a delightful surprise.

Emily wasn't just beautiful. She was amazing.

He'd never considered her as a romantic prospect. For one thing, she was his co-worker. There were rules about that. For another, she was almost ten years his senior. That wasn't a problem for him, but he'd sort of assumed that it would be for her. Apart from those two practical considerations, he'd just never entertained the idea that she'd ever consider_him_ as a romantic prospect. She had, at times, acted mildly flirty with him – but she did that with everybody.

Had he discounted her because he'd thought she was out of his league? She most certainly was, although he knew her well enough to know that she'd find such an assessment insulting to both of them. It wasn't that he thought he couldn't have feelings for her. Maybe it was because he'd thought he _could_ have feelings for her, deep and intense feelings, and that was frightening. The last thing he needed was to develop a crush on a coworker that he had to see every day and who could never feel that way about him. It was safer to put her in that mental FORBIDDEN category and go about his life as if it weren't an option.

Emily wasn't afraid of danger. She'd looked at him tonight with different eyes. He'd thought he was imagining it until suddenly they'd each looked at each other's lips, and then they were kissing. Emily had been his friend, just his friend, until suddenly – she wasn't.

He let these thoughts percolate as he got undressed and showered. What had affected him the most was that she'd understood his excitement over Niedermeier's pathology. He'd told women he'd dated about his work before. He couldn't help it, it was his life, he had to talk about it or else he'd have nothing much to talk about. He didn't want to tell them about his mother or his childhood or his deadbeat father. What else was there? They'd be interested at first. FBI agent, sure, that's interesting. But inevitably he'd get carried away talking about some sociopath's anger-excitation pathology and they'd get this borderline-alarmed look in their eyes, like perhaps he found it so fascinating because he was like that, too. Even Austin had eventually put the kibosh on any talk about his work because it had "creeped her out."

Not Emily. She understood. She knew why he found this new behavioral profile so enthralling, because she found it enthralling, too. She didn't think he was a freak for being interested. And she already knew about his mother and his childhood and his deadbeat father. There was no artifice there. She knew him and she had never turned away. Even at a time when he'd wanted her to, she hadn't turned away. At the time he'd lashed out at her for it, but now he was grateful. She was the only person who'd ever confronted him about his addiction, which paradoxically meant she was the one he could trust the most with it.

He couldn't help but replay her expressions in his mind as he stood under the spray, letting the hot water pound the long day out of his body. And when she'd told him he had a fantastic smile...

Reid sighed, his body remembering how it had felt to hold her and taste her. He hadn't imagined it. He wasn't daydreaming. It had been real. She'd been in his arms, she'd had her own wrapped around his shoulders, he had felt her body against his, her breasts pressed against his chest. God, how had he ever gotten up the nerve to kiss her? He couldn't even really remember making the decision, it just sort of happened. He'd looked in her eyes and suddenly he'd seen it in his head, the image of himself kissing her, and it felt right. Like that image had been there before, even if he couldn't quite put his finger on it. Then to look in her eyes afterward and see an invitation to do it again. How had he dared to accept that invitation? That wasn't him. He had many useful skills, but the ability to romance beautiful women wasn't really among them.

_Do you know that? Have you tried?_

Not lately, he hadn't. He hadn't had sex in over a year. A long dry spell, although he'd had a couple of opportunities in the interim, but they'd always seemed like just too much bother. He'd rather go home and read a book.

He got into bed and lay there on his back.

_If she'd indicated that's what she wanted, you'd be over there having sex with her right now. So much for all your Reasons Why Not. If she'd invited you, you'd have jumped into bed with her in a heartbeat. No man on earth would blame you._

__

I think Hotch might. In a very stern and possibly career-ending way.

_Well, she didn't and you didn't so now you're here – alone – thinking about how amazing she looks in that red tank top she insists on wearing and how her lips felt and what she smelled like, which was nothing much except clean skin with a hint of soy sauce from the Chinese food we had for dinner._

He rolled his eyes. _What are you, a horny teenager?_

_I feel like one._

He sighed. He wasn't going to be able to get to sleep with all these imaginings running through his head, so he gave in and slid one hand under the sheets to take care of it himself. But for once, he wouldn't be imagining some woman he didn't know.

* * *

Reid took a deep breath and knocked on Emily's door. _Fresh new day, everything will be back to normal, she'll tell me we'll just forget about it..._ It was amazing to discover just how much he didn't want to hear her say that.

She opened the door, smiling brightly. She looked ready to go. "Good morning!" she said. "Come in, I just need to pack up my toothbrush and stuff."

He stepped inside and closed the door behind him. "How'd you sleep?" he asked, then winced. It had sounded like an innocent enough question in his head.

She came back out with a small zipper bag. "Fine. Well...you know," she said, her eyes twinkling a little.

He shifted his weight and looked at the floor, blood rushing to his cheeks. "Yeah."

Emily put the zippered bag in her carry-on, then walked right up to him. She tugged on his lapels and smoothed the front of his jacket, letting her hands stay on his chest. "I'm not going to say it."

He made himself look at her. "Say what?"

"That thing you're waiting for me to say."

It wouldn't do him any good to keep playing dumb. "Do you need _me_ to say it?"

She shook her head. "No." Her eyes flicked all over his face, then she just gave his chest a little pat and stepped away to put on her coat. Reid's stomach twirled. He hardly dared let himself think that she might want to continue this – whatever this was. She shouldered her laptop bag. "C'mon, we better go, we don't want to miss our flight."

They stopped at the restaurant downstairs and picked up coffee and a bagel to split, then went outside to their rental car. Emily got into the driver's seat without it being discussed. Their hotel was near the airport so they'd only be driving about a mile. Reid munched on his bagel while Emily navigated out of the hotel's parking garage, her half of the bagel clamped between her teeth. It was a busy morning at the airport; it was Sunday and all the weekenders were leaving. They sat in a long line to drive into the rental-car return. They weren't talking, but Reid felt like an entire conversation was going on while they weren't talking. Someone up ahead was honking. Someone else was getting out of their car. Emily sighed, put the car in park and flipped on the hazards. "What the hell is this, now?" she muttered.

"Disgruntled rental-car customers?"

"Let's go up there and shoot them."

"The Bureau might frown on that."

She chuckled, heaving another deep sigh of resignation. Keeping her eyes forward, her elbow on her window ledge and her chin propped on her hand, her right hand drifted over and settled itself just north of his knee. Reid tried not to freeze too theatrically. He kept chewing his bagel and sipping his coffee, acting like it was totally normal for Emily's hand to be on his leg, because frankly, that's how she was acting. Like this was totally normal. This was just how they were. Without discussing it.

A slow smile spread on his face. _Oh, I see. So that's how it's going to be._

He felt her looking at him but didn't give her the satisfaction, just kept facing forward, letting the smirk stay on his face as long as her hand stayed on his leg.

The traffic ahead cleared out, finally, and Prentiss had to use her hand to drive, so the moment passed.

They turned in the rental and walked through the terminal with their bags. "You called the airline, didn't you?" Emily asked.

"Before we left the hotel." Reid was always the one calling the airport when the team flew commercial because he always knew their NLETS authorization codes, which permitted them to fly armed. They walked to the security station; the guard in charge saw them coming.

"Are you my LEOs for the 9:00 flight?" she asked, smiling brightly.

"Yes," Emily said. "Special Agents Prentiss and Reid." They both got out their badges for her inspection.

"Our NLETS authorization code is Alpha-Victor-8354-Hotel-Bravo," Reid rattled off.

The guard checked it against a PDA. "Okay, you agents are checked in. May I inspect your carry, please?" Emily unbuttoned her jacket to show the guard her holster, which she'd moved to the middle of her back. Reid showed his, on his hip as usual, under his jacket. The guard made a rather cute scrunched-up face. "I have to ask you to carry concealed, Agent Reid," she said. "Or to keep your jacket buttoned."

"I'll move it to my bag," he said, pulling the holster off his belt and putting it into his messenger bag.

"Thanks so much. Last thing we need is some passenger spotting someone with a weapon. I'll advise the flight crew of your seat numbers. Have a good flight!" she said cheerily, waving them past.

They glanced at each other as they headed for their gate. "That was the friendliest airport security guard I've ever seen," Emily muttered.

"I was just thinking the same thing."

"It's almost – unnerving." She shook her head. "What a sad commentary on our times, when someone being cheerful is cause for concern."

"Actually, excessive cheeriness can be a sign of a deeper dementia. A refusal to accept life's difficulties and an overly optimistic disposition can be signs of denial, masking significant dysfunction. Alternatively, someone suffering from bipolar disorder may experience periods of heightened enthusiasm and friendliness during their manic phase." They were at the gate by now. Emily was just watching him babble, her head cocked and her arms crossed. He made himself stop. "Sorry."

She shrugged. "Don't tell the others, but – I think it's kind of cute when you do that."

Reid grinned. "Really?"

She looked away, her ears pinking up and a tiny smile on her lips. "We'll never speak of it again."

"Whatever you say."

They boarded and settled into their seats. "I'm going to try and take a nap," Emily said. "I didn't get very much sleep last night." The slightest curl of a flirt colored her words.

"Is that so?" he said, eyes on his book. "Bad dreams?"

"Good ones." She fell silent, resting her head on a pillow shoved between her head and the side of the plane. If she was waiting for him to take the bait, he wasn't biting. That would be against the nebulously-defined and totally unspoken rules they were already developing.

By the time they were at cruising altitude, she was asleep. Reid risked a look away from the pages he was reading and watched her.

Something was happening. Something was _about_ to happen. To him, to her, to them. They might not be a him and a her anymore. He wondered if it was possible that they could be an 'us.' The prospect was both exhilarating and terrifying. Terrifying because he was sure he couldn't offer a woman like Emily everything she hoped for and everything she deserved, and it would be monumentally awful to try but fail. Exhilarating because – well, to be something to her? He couldn't imagine it. He could hardly hold in his mind too many thoughts about what it might be like to sleep with her. More than just sex, the prospect of really knowing her was appealing. Getting inside that protected mind, however far in she'd let him, and being something significant to her.

But this was her show. She should set the tone. So he'd give her space. So far, they were doing an odd little dance of talking about it while not talking about it, of acknowledging it without saying it out loud. That was okay with him, for now, at least. He'd take his cue from her. Maybe there'd come a time when he'd ask her out on a date.

That thought made him straighten up and face forward again.

_A date. Damn. Where on earth could I take Emily on a date?_

_

* * *

_

Emily had driven them to the airport for their flight, so now she'd have to drop him off at home. The tension in the car was not negligible as they rode in silence towards Reid's apartment.

She pulled up outside his building. "Well," she said, lamely.

"We have a lot of work to do tomorrow."

"Yes," she said. "We're writing a paper."

"I've got two classes at Georgetown this week," he said, not knowing why he was telling her this except for some vague notion that she might have more than a passing interest in his schedule now.

"Which days?"

"Tuesday and Thursday evening, unless we have a case out of town."

"I should go to one of your lectures sometime," she said, smiling. "I've always wondered what you're like as a teacher."

"In theory, I know what constitutes effective teaching. I admit I sometimes have trouble with the execution."

Silence fell. Long pause.

"Well," Reid finally said. "I'll see you tomorrow."

She just nodded, her eyes on his face. He saw her tongue dart out and lick her lips, which gave him just the barest fraction of a second's warning – but it was enough. When she reached out and grabbed him, he was already grabbing back. Seizing each other's faces, they kissed frantically, hungrily, like teenagers trying to get in as much time as they could before someone's father appeared on the porch.

And just as quickly, it was over. They simultaneously yanked themselves apart. Emily faced front, both hands gripping the steering wheel. "Goodnight, Reid," she said.

"Night, Emily." He got out of the car and shut the door behind him. She pulled away from the curb faster than was probably recommended by driving instructors.

Reid sighed and stood there on the sidewalk, hands on his hips, waiting. He shook his head, chuckling to himself.

After a few moments, Emily came driving up from the other direction, having apparently gone around the block. She pulled up to the same spot she'd just vacated. Reid opened the back door of her car and took out his suitcase. "Sorry," she said, looking sheepish.

"Thanks for coming back." He waved. "Goodnight. Again."

She didn't say anything, just drove away. He watched her go until she turned the corner and was no longer visible, then he headed into his building.

_Well. There's that. Tomorrow is going to be interesting._


	2. Chapter 2

_Back at the BAU, normal life resumed. They had a new case right away and had no time to talk to each other...but without it being discussed, a covert and nonverbal courtship had begun right under the noses of their fellow team members._

_-How to Fight Loneliness, Chapter 3_

_

* * *

_

**MONDAY**

Reid arrived at the BAU extra early the next morning, but found that Emily was already there, which had been precisely what he'd hoped to avoid. He wanted home-court advantage in this little game they were playing, which meant getting here first so that she'd see him sitting at his desk like everything was normal while she walked in the door. Instead, he had to studiously avoid looking at her as he crossed the bullpen, which was difficult since their desks were right next to each other.

He sat down and took off his coat. She was at her computer. She didn't say anything or look at him, which was already weird, because on any other day she would have smiled and said "Good morning" and he would have done the same. Instead, he put down his Starbucks cup and signed in to his own computer, ignoring her.

But she was aware of him, oh yes, she was. Hyperaware, just as he was of her. She wasn't clicking her mouse or typing as fast as usual, and his view of her fingers let him know that she typed the same phrase several times, which meant she was distracted and making mistakes. Her posture was unusually stiff and straight, like she was intentionally trying to look normal. Reid slouched over the keyboard and slurped on his coffee.

They'd have to talk eventually, of course. But he'd be damned if he'd blink first.

Morgan walked in a few minutes later. "Hey, how was Minnesota?" he asked, looking from him to Emily and back.

"Stimulating," Reid said, before he could stop himself. Emily shot him a Look. "I think we're going to get an interesting paper out of it."

Morgan grinned. "Careful, Prentiss. Anything you write is going to get marked up all to hell. He is a monster with the red pen."

She shrugged. "Maybe I don't mind getting marked up." The tiny glance she flicked at Reid was imperceptible to Morgan, but Reid nearly splurted coffee all over his desk.

"Well, best of luck, then," Morgan said, oblivious. "I'll be interested to have a look at your interview notes."

"I'll email you a copy when I've got them typed up," Reid said, gathering his composure.

"Cool." Morgan took his seat and went about his own business. Reid and Prentiss were both back at their computers, but her mouth was now set in a satisfied little curl.

No one spoke for the next hour or so. Finally, Reid got up to dump the cold dregs of his Starbucks and refill his mug from the coffeepot. He knew even before he heard her get up that she'd follow him.

He dumped the coffee and tossed the empty cup. She took down her mug and his from the shelf where they kept them and rinsed them both out. Reid picked up the coffeepot and filled both mugs, reclaiming his once the coffeepot was back on its warming plate. She handed him the sugar and he dumped some in.

The entire time they performed these tasks, they didn't take their eyes off each other.  
Emily took a cautious sip of the hot coffee, then her tongue snuck out and licked her upper lip. Slowly. Reid just stood there, calmly stirring the sugar into his coffee, matching her neutral, speculative gaze.

They might have stood there all day trying to make each other blink, but JJ walked in. "Conference room, guys."

* * *

The team boarded the jet in silence. The case they were about to work was, to be blunt, horrific. Reid was usually able to detach from the things they saw and maintain his scientific objectivity, but this one was tough. Teenagers, raped and disemboweled, left out in the open like garbage, mutilated – an UNSUB like this was enough to make even him wonder if evil really existed.

Emily was already seated, staring off into space with the file on her knees. He'd hoped she'd sit at the table so he could sit next to her, but she was by herself, facing the rear of the plane. He stood near her chair while the others boarded, staying out of their way. He felt a light touch on the back of his hand, then he felt her grasp his fingers and squeeze them quickly before letting go. No one saw, and Reid kept his eyes front. He risked a glance down at her; her eyes were lowered. The other team members were starting to take their seats, he'd better do the same. Out of view of the others, he reached out and quickly skimmed the back of his index finger over her cheek as he walked forward to sit next to Rossi.

Once they got to Indianapolis, it was all business. The case, while brutal, nevertheless gave them a lot of material to work with and a profile quickly started to take shape. Still, Reid felt beaten up and sore in his heart as he returned to the station with Morgan after interviewing the family of one of the dead teenagers. He took a seat at the conference table where they'd set up camp while Morgan went outside to get some air. Emily appeared, holding a cup of coffee. "How was the interview?"

"Useful. Brianna Rogers was a careful girl. She wasn't wild, she was private."

"Like the others."

"Which just makes the question of how he's targeting them more important." He sighed. "I never know what to do when the parents cry," he said, quietly. "You and Morgan and JJ, you always seem to know what to say. I never know how to look or how to act. I just want to start babbling and I know that's not helping."

"It doesn't matter what you do right now. The best thing you can do for them in the long run is find their daughter's killer." She reached out and tucked an errant curl back behind his ear. It was a casual but undeniably intimate gesture, and more than even the kisses they'd shared it communicated to him that he wasn't alone in whatever he was feeling about them. He looked up at her. She set the cup down in front of him. "Brought you a coffee."

"Thanks," he said, gratefully. He took a sip; it was light and extra-sweet, just how he liked it. She patted his shoulder and left the room.

Ten minutes later he was given a momentary break by his cellphone ringing; it was a DC area code. He recognized the number, it was his realtor. "Spencer Reid."

"Oh, Mr. Reid. It's Doug Eisenman."

"Hi, Doug."

"I just wanted to check in and see if you'd made a decision about the library. I don't think there'll be a better time to buy it, the seller's desperate to unload. I think you should make an offer at ten thousand less than the most recent quote and see if they bite."

Reid took a deep breath. He'd been going back and forth on this for weeks now, but suddenly today, the decision seemed so obvious. "Make the offer."

"Great. I'll submit the paperwork and give you a call when they respond."

"Thanks, Doug."

"It's an amazing place. I can't wait to see what you do with it."

"I'm a little curious about that myself."

Doug laughed. "I'll be in touch."

"Goodbye." Reid hung up and stared at the phone for a moment, waiting to be terrified by the enormity of the step he'd just taken, but he felt oddly calm about it.

_Oh, no. Don't tell me that you're buying this house because of her. That's crazy. You don't know what this is with her, it could be nothing and then you'll have this house._

__

But I'll still want to live in it myself either way. And I am not buying this house because of her. I was seriously considering making the offer before anything happened with us.

Yes, but now something's happened with her and suddenly you've made the offer.

_It's not because of her. It's really not._

Reid smiled to himself. _I can't wait to show it to her._

_

* * *

_

**TUESDAY**

They solved the case fast, to everyone's relief. In the whirlwind of activity, Reid was almost able to forget about whatever was going on between himself and Emily, but soon enough it was all over. They apprehended the UNSUB when he tried to visit a staged memorial service for one of the victims. That was such an old trick, Reid sometimes marveled that UNSUBs still fell for it.

They'd all lurked in the back of the room as JJ and the local chief of police gave the press conference announcing that a suspect was in custody. Reid felt two tons lighter. Morgan, standing next to him, had that look of grim satisfaction he got when the outcome was positive but there were still a bunch of dead teenagers, so celebration wasn't quite appropriate. He looked down the group at Emily, standing at the end next to Hotch, and let himself dip a toe back into that memory of what it had felt like to kiss her. As if she could feel his eyes on her, Emily looked over at him. She dropped him a quick, near-invisible wink and then shifted her eyes forward again. Warmth blooming in his belly, Reid had to concentrate to keep himself from grinning like an idiot.

They'd be leaving in the morning. Everyone was exhausted and it was after eleven o'clock, so Hotch had ordered everyone back to the hotel for a good night's sleep. They all walked down the hallway, talking in those familiar, relieved, end-of-a-case tones, as one by one they peeled off to go into their rooms. Reid's was at the end and Emily was across the hall from him, conveniently enough. They cast sidelong glances at each other before splitting up and going to their respective doors. He heard Emily's keycard in the lock, but then did not hear the expected sound of her door opening.

He looked over his shoulder. She was just standing there, still facing the door. Without a word, she reached one hand back toward him, palm up, and wiggled her fingers in a "gimme" gesture. Reid took her hand and squeezed it. She looked back at him, her thumb leaving one stroke across the back of his hand. "Night," she said.

He nodded. They let go of each other and went into their rooms.

* * *

**WEDNESDAY**

Emily was wearing _the_ red tank top today. Some of the time she had her jacket over it, so it might have been any other red shirt, but at her desk she'd sometimes take off the jacket.

If he were of a more devious bent of mind, he might have suspected that she'd worn it just to mess with his mind.

He was grimly determined not to be caught staring, to the point that he feared he was being rude to her by avoiding any and all eye contact and minimizing conversation. But it was inevitable. He couldn't sit there across from her all day, possessing a Y chromosome and a pair of functional eyeballs, and never look. So naturally, when his guard was down and he found himself looking before he even realized he was doing it - that was when she caught him.

The awareness that his gaze was firmly glued to her chest came upon him in a rush of embarrassment and he gave a little jerk in his chair. On reflex he looked up at her face and found her looking back at him, one eyebrow cocked, and in that moment he realized that she had _absolutely_ worn that shirt today to mess with his mind. He gave her a withering look. _Are you happy now?_ She leaned back in her chair and crossed her arms, smirking across at him._Whatcha gonna do about it?_

Oh, he'd do something about it, all right. He turned to his computer and shot off a quick email. Someone owed him a favor.

At lunchtime, Morgan came back to his desk to check his email, read the messages, then said "Well, shit."

"What?" Emily said.

"Jane Donovan had to cancel on me. She's my demonstration partner for the hand-to-hand class, which is…" he checked his watch…"in an hour. Dammit! I hope you're caught up on files, Prentiss. You're spending the afternoon slamming me into a mat."

"Huh?" she said, eyes widening.

"You said if I needed a sparring partner for class that you'd do it! Remember?"

"Oh," she said, deflating. "Yeah, I remember."

"Good. C'mon, get your stuff, we'll need to go over the lesson plan for today before class so we better go now. I'll go tell Hotch." Morgan headed off for Hotch's office.

Reid couldn't keep the smile off his face as he pretended to ignore the goings-on. Emily got up and started yanking on her jacket. "You think I don't know that you tutored Jane Donovan's son to a passing grade in chemistry?" she grumbled.

"I have no idea what you're talking about."

She stood next to his desk. "Have a _productive_ afternoon, Dr. Reid."

"I will now," he said, with a flick of his eyes down at her shirt.

She tried to keep up the irritated-face but it crackled a little at the edges and a smile poked through. She flicked her finger against his shoulder, then headed off with Morgan.

* * *

Just before three o'clock, Reid was coming back from Garcia's office, his nose buried in a file full of printouts, when he saw Emily coming down the hall toward him – jacketless, of course. The spit dried up in his mouth and he had to fight to maintain his stride. Her hair was up and she looked flushed and sweaty from her afternoon of sparring with Morgan and his students. She had a couple of red marks on her arms and neck. She was glowing, she looked fierce, and she was the sexiest thing he'd ever seen.

She didn't meet his eyes until they had almost drawn even with each other, then she shot him a glance and a wink. He couldn't help himself, he looked back over his shoulder. She turned around and took a few backwards steps so she could give him a big bright grin, then faced forward again and continued on her way.

Reid picked up the pace toward his desk, holding his file folder in front of his crotch.

* * *

**THURSDAY**

Reid strode through the parking garage, his head down. He'd gotten a rather distressing call from Bennington before leaving for work, and it was weighing heavily on his mind. He was almost looking forward to diving into folders full of murder. And looking forward to seeing Emily.

The two of them were dancing very intentional, deliberate circles around each other, and he was surprised to find that he was enjoying it. He'd have thought that it would be frustrating to have no actual forward movement, no acknowledgment out loud, no repetition of the physical moments they'd shared, but it wasn't. There was something sexy about this unspoken game, like a treasure hunt where the clues were tiny stolen moments and subtle signals offered and received. Every time they shared a knowing glance, every time they brushed up against each other accidentally-on-purpose, every time they caught each other looking – it was like collecting points for a prize as yet to be determined. He was still waiting for some kind of signal from her that she actually wanted to upgrade the status of their relationship through a real live date of some kind. He didn't want to crowd her, or exert any unwelcome pressure.

"Reid!" He heard his name as he reached the elevator and turned to see the woman herself hurrying toward him. "Didn't you hear me calling you since way back there?" she said, slightly breathless.

"Oh – no, I'm sorry, I didn't. I guess I'm a little distracted."

She frowned at him, looking concerned. "Something wrong?"

He sighed. "I got a call from my mother's doctor this morning. She's just having a few bad days and he wanted to see how I'd feel about switching up her medication to something a little stronger."

"Maybe that's a good idea," she said, her tone gentle.

"It might be, but stronger medications will just make her foggy and confused. She values having her senses intact, I hate to take that from her. It's almost all she has."

"She also has a son who cares about her," Emily said.

He met her eyes and saw real understanding and concern there. "I suppose." More agents were gathering for the elevator, so they fell silent. Just co-workers waiting for the elevator, nothing to see here, move right along.

They boarded the elevator, gravitating to the back. As the car rose, Reid felt her fingers brush against him, then she slipped her hand into his coat pocket and pushed her shoulder against his. He pushed back and his hand joined hers in his pocket.

When they got off the elevator car on the BAU floor, their hands and bodies were separated by a foot of space, as if they had always been so.

* * *

**FRIDAY**

Reid wasn't looking forward to the weekend. Usually he viewed them with equanimity. He enjoyed his work at the BAU, but weekends were a good time to read and work on his personal projects. All he could see about this upcoming weekend was that it would be two whole days that he wouldn't see Emily.

Unless he took the plunge and asked her out. Or he could make it more innocent, just suggest coffee. They'd done that before, as purely platonic friends. But he knew damn well that they couldn't pretend that that's all they were anymore. Besides, it wasn't time yet. He couldn't put his finger on how he knew that, he just knew.

Yesterday he'd been glad for the distraction after the call about his mother. Emily hadn't been around for part of the morning, she'd had a dentist appointment. When he came back to the office from lunch, he'd thrown caution to the wind and brought her a latte. She'd smiled broadly with her newly-sparkling-clean teeth and let her fingers linger over his as she took the cup from him. He'd found the presence of mind to wink at her before taking his own seat. When they left for the day, without discussing it they'd both timed it so they were alone in the elevator. They didn't speak, just watched the numbers slide downwards, but Reid's hand had been tracing light circles on the small of her back, and she'd let her own hand slide down his arm as they parted to go to their cars.

Today he felt much encouraged after he'd been allowed to talk to his mother on the phone briefly, and she'd said she wanted to try the new medication and see how it went. He could support that plan. He'd sat down to read journals in the evening but found himself preoccupied with thoughts of Emily. Normally he'd view such preoccupation with annoyance, but oddly, he didn't mind so much. It had been rather pleasant to let his thoughts dwell on her. It was interesting how quickly things could change, too. A week ago, he would hardly have spared her a thought once he'd left work, unless it was to think to ask her opinion about something he was working on or reading. Or recommend an article to her because she might find it interesting. Sometimes after reading a novel or seeing a film, he'd think to himself that she'd like it and he ought to tell her about it. And then there were the times that he'd be out for a bite and he'd remember her mentioning that she loved Thai food, or that she couldn't stand too much foam on her cappuccino, or...

_Damn. I've been thinking about her more than I realized._

How long had this been going on? Had Emily been steadily worming her way into his thoughts, little by little establishing a presence, until now it felt natural to him?

He wasn't sure of the answer to that, he just knew that right now, she was almost all he could think about.

She smiled brightly at him when he came into the bullpen. No smirkiness, no cocked eyebrows, no suggestive lip-licking. Just a normal smile. "Morning, Reid."

"Morning," he replied.

"No Starbucks today?"

"Didn't have time. Got a bit of a late start." He sat down at his desk and started getting himself situated. Emily was busily typing away on something, her eyes on her monitor. He sat there for a moment, just letting himself look at her.

She glanced at him and caught him looking. He resisted looking away. He expected a smug little look or a teasing eyebrow, but instead she just smiled, a sweet smile with – was he imagining it? – a hint of longing in it. He cleared his throat and dropped his eyes, and they both went back to work.

* * *

The end of the day came too quickly. Everyone was working on consultation files today, including himself. The only fun he got to have with Emily was at lunch. He, Morgan, Emily and JJ took a little longer lunch break than usual and drove into Alexandria to the Hard Times Cafe for chili. They sat four in a booth, Reid and Emily across from each other at the wall, an ideal arrangement for acting natural while they tangled their feet together under the table. Even when both Morgan and JJ got up from the table, leaving them momentarily alone, they just talked about which was the best microbrew pub in the area, ignoring the fact that his foot was trapped between her crossed ankles.

Once they returned to Quantico, it was back to work and more work. Before he knew it, it was after five and everyone was packing it in for the night. He found himself being decidedly pokey about it, and he didn't think he was imagining that Emily was taking her own sweet time, too. Morgan bid them goodnight and hurried off to whatever hot date he had planned. Garcia dropped by and made some suggestions about dinner or going to a movie, but they both demurred, so she left as well.

Finally, it could be put off no longer. Once again timing it so that they left at the same time (they were getting pretty good at accomplishing that without looking like they were trying), they rode the elevator in silence and walked through the parking garage to the point where they had to split up. They both stopped walking and turned to face each other. Reid rocked back and forth on his heels, hands in his pockets, looking at the concrete at his feet. He didn't know what to say. Part of him just wanted to blurt out, "Let's go out and do something and actually talk about what's going on with us and then I'd like to kiss you some more because that was fantastic." The other part wanted to draw out this tension until it got so taut you could walk across it with a balancing pole held across your shoulders.

"Plans for the weekend?" she asked, her tone carefully neutral.

"Not really. Just work."

"All work and no play make Dr. Reid a dull boy," she teased.

"I'm already dull."

"I don't think you're dull."

He looked up at her. "Thanks."

She glanced over in the direction she'd soon be walking to reach her car. "Well, I guess..."

"You have plans for the weekend?" he asked, just wanting to delay the inevitable.

"No. I might have lunch with my mother tomorrow. Other than that – no."

Trying to hear if there was an implication or an invitation hidden in those words was making his brain hurt a little. "I guess I'll see you Monday, then."

She seemed to deflate just a hair. "Yeah. Monday."

"Okay."

Neither of them moved.

"Have a good night," she finally said.

"Oh, you too." She nodded, taking her turn to examine her shoes and fidget back and forth.

Reid took a deep breath and then stepped closer. She looked up at him, part expectant and part apprehensive, as if she weren't quite sure of his intentions. He reached out and touched her elbow, then slid his hand down her arm to her gloved hand. He clasped it between them and smiled again, not his normal and polite smile but the new smile he'd had to develop just for her, the one that knew their secret. "Good night, Emily," he said.

She answered his secret smile with her own. "Good night, Reid." She gave his hand another squeeze, then released it and walked off. Reid watched her go, wondering when he'd first hear her call him by his first name, but encouraged by the realization that he was no longer wondering "if" but "when."


	3. Chapter 3

**SATURDAY**

Reid's weekend began, as all his weekends did, with lunch at Hilda's, a crazy little restaurant just down the block from his house that served a weird juxtaposition of Hungarian and Thai food, along with whatever other cuisine struck their fancy. Once, he'd come in to find that they were serving moussaka with an optional side dish of gefilte fish. The owners, Olek and his wife, the eponymous Hilda, had taken him on as a pet project. "Doctor Spencer!" Hilda exclaimed, hurrying forward to clasp him to her generous bosom. "You are late, we are beginning to think you not come today. Come, I have soup for you and also blintzes."

The soup turned out to be Thai coconut curry soup with chicken and mushrooms, which went surprisingly well with the cheese-filled blintzes. Hilda brought him some homemade raspberry preserves for his blintzes and a tall glass of Thai iced tea sweetened with condensed milk, his favorite drink here.

Hilda hovered in the nearly-empty restaurant (not many customers at eleven o'clock in the morning when they didn't technically serve breakfast), fretting over him. "Doctor Spencer, you are too skinny, I can see your bones. Can you not find a nice girl to cook for you? Look at you, so handsome, and smart FBI man, how are girls not everywhere for you?" She peered at him. "Oh, but you blush! Olek! Come out here, Young Doctor Spencer has a lady friend, I think that is what he has!"

Olek came bustling out, a dishtowel over his shoulder. "Where is she?" he demanded.

"Wait, wait!" Spencer exclaimed, half-laughing and holding up his hands in supplication. "I never said there was a – a lady friend!"

"There is! I see it on your face!" Hilda cried. "You glow pink like a man who thinks on a lady. You listen to me, now. You must bring your lady friend here and we will give her paprikash and then we'll see."

"What will we see?"

"If she eats it! If she is one of these dainty little things who will turn up her nose and only pick at salad like a little bird, then pah. She is not for you. A woman who can eat is a woman who will be tough and strong and bear you fine strong children."

Reid felt like his face must be purple by now. "I'll, uh, keep that in mind," he stammered, thinking of yesterday at the Hard Times Cafe when Emily had polished off a big bowl of chili three-way. Hilda would approve. "Maybe I will bring her here, if I get the chance."

"Yes, you must! See?" she said, slapping at Olek's arm. "I told you, he would find himself a nice girl!"

"When did I say he would not?" Olek yelled, indignant and rubbing his arm.

"Is she pretty?" Hilda asked, serious again.

Reid smiled. "Yes, she's beautiful."

"Ahhh. I look forward to meeting your pretty lady friend, Doctor Spencer. Now you must shoo because all the funny men will be here soon and I must get the pad thai started." Hilda did love her 'funny men.' The restaurant was a major destination for the boys who'd been up all night at the gay clubs down the street, some of them making the Walk of Shame. They descended in packs around noon. Hilda fussed over them and fed them coffee and blintzes and they adored her. Reid got up and let her bustle him out the door. He never paid for his food here. He'd tried, but they refused. The second time he'd come here, just before they closed, a robber had come in and held up Olek at gunpoint. Spencer had quietly waited until the robber had come to his table to get his wallet (clearly the guy had seen Pulp Fiction one too many times) and then, with the assistance of his sidearm, he'd persuaded the robber he ought to put the nice money down and let himself be handcuffed. Olek and Hilda were eternally grateful for this, so Spencer ate for free.

Reid walked the two blocks back to his apartment. It might actually be fun to bring Emily here. It was a hole in the wall, but it was charming. He let his mind drift to one of its more frequent subjects of preoccupation of late, namely, what he would do on a date with Emily. He'd yet to hit on the perfect idea. He'd rejected most of the usual suspects. Movie? No, he wanted to talk to her. Concert? Same problem. Museum? Too...quiet, and too much pressure to be intellectual. Something she'd like. Something unique.

It would come to him.

* * *

When he got back to his apartment, there was a small white box sitting on the floor in front of his door. He paused when he saw it, looking right and left as if elves might pop out and deliver a singing telegram. He bent down and picked it up. He knew who it was from. Who else?

Reid opened the box, then just shook his head. _Oh, Prentiss. This is just too...too something._

Inside the box was Emily's red tank top.

* * *

**SUNDAY**

Reid had spent a distressingly long time on Saturday trying to figure out what he could possibly leave outside her door that would have anything like the significance of that red tank top and had come up blank. He couldn't think of any item of his own clothing that she'd ever noticed or commented on, much less found irresistible.

He thought of conversations they'd had, things they'd bonded over, things they had in common. Nothing had sprung to mind.

Glum, and feeling like he was somehow failing in this treasure hunt, he read the Sunday paper while he drank his third cup of coffee. It was coming up on October (and Emily's birthday, which he was trying not to think about) and that meant haunted houses, horror movie marathons – here was an ad for one. A picture of Bela Lugosi accompanied the ad.

Reid flashed on a conversation they'd had on the plane out to Minnesota, about _Dark Shadows._ He'd heard of it, but wasn't surprised that Emily might have gravitated towards a vampire-based soap opera that had aired fifty years ago. That had led to comparisons of Barnabas Collins to other vampires, then a discussion of the cherry-picking of vampire lore for the various mythologies of vampire shows, then reminiscing about the case they'd had in L.A. of a schizophrenic vampirist, and so forth.

By the time the thought had passed through his mind, Reid knew what he wanted to do. Now he just had to see if he could find what he needed.

* * *

**MONDAY**

Reid could hardly contain himself as he walked into the BAU. He couldn't wait to see what Emily's reaction would be to the surprise he'd left on her doorstep. It had taken some doing and a lot of calling around to every geek he knew, but he'd finally found what he was looking for, even if he had to promise the owner his firstborn child to get him to let Reid borrow it.

He just wished he could have been there to see her face when Emily opened her door to find there a cardboard standee of brooding vampire Barnabas Collins – wearing her red tank top.

He felt almost gleeful with anticipation. He'd sent her a cryptic text message to get her to open her door but hadn't gotten any texts from her all evening, which was fine. They somehow both understood without having discussed it that phone, email or text contact over the weekend was verboten, an agreement he'd broached by texting her in the first place. He'd left for work extra early just so he'd be there when she came in. It was barely seven o'clock when he came into the bullpen. It was deserted. Not even Hotch was in his office yet.

On the seat of his chair was a flash drive.

Sighing, Reid shook his head. She must have come in last night and left it. She wasn't here yet, her coat and purse weren't at her desk and he hadn't seen her car in the garage in its usual parking spot. He glanced around to make sure he was alone, then sat down and plugged in the flash drive. On it was a single file, a photographic slideshow.

The first photo, obviously staged, was of Emily opening the door to her apartment. Barnabas was lurking outside, looking menacing and yet quite sporty in his red tank top. Emily was facing the camera with wide eyes and one hand to her face, her mouth in an exaggerated wide "O" of silent-movie surprise. Reid grinned. In the next photo, she'd brought Barnabas into her apartment. He'd been relieved of his tank top and now she was wearing it. She had her arm around the standee's waist and was gazing up at it with a dreamy expression. In the next photo, she'd dipped Barnabas low like they were dancing the tango. In the next, she had her arms around his neck and was miming a passionate kiss. In the last one, she still had her arms around Barnabas, but she was looking back at the camera, giving Reid a flirty smile with a bit of a challenge behind it. _I'd rather be doing this to you than to a cardboard cutout of Barnabas Collins._

Reid stared at that final image for awhile, amused and a little aroused all at once. _Damn, she is amazing,_ he thought._She found my little present and this is what she did with it. She found a way to get me back and be funny and sexy about it at the same time._

His reverie, which was rapidly becoming a daydream, was interrupted by the click of JJ's heels as she burst into the bullpen. "Reid, good, someone's here," she said, a little breathless. "We need to call in the team. I'll call Hotch and Rossi, can you do the rest?"

"Sure," he said, picking up his phone while quickly closing down the slideshow file with his other hand. "What's up?"

"Police in Tempe, Arizona are on the line. They had a really bad spree shooting overnight," she said, reaching for the remote to turn on the bullpen TV. They looked up at the morning news, which was full of images of bodies covered in sheets on the ground. "In six hours starting just after midnight, he hit two convenience stores, a walk-in clinic, a cab driver, a prostitute and a fast food restaurant. Eight dead, two injured."

"Any of the survivors give statements?"

"Yeah, one of them said that the shooter was calm and collected, he seemed to just pick out people and shoot them at random. He didn't speak."

"He's not done," Reid said.

"That's why they need us."

* * *

_Riding in an elevator with the team, they stood side by side at the back. Emily felt Reid's little finger brush hers, then he hooked them together like they were pinky swearing something, both of them keeping their eyes front. At a police station in Tempe, looking over his shoulder as he analyzed a letter to the police from their UNSUB, she glanced around to make sure they were unobserved before she put her hand on the back of his neck while he explained about the slant of the penmanship and the force of the pen strokes. She'd left it there for a few seconds, letting it slide away when she answered her phone._

_This went on for days. A glance as they passed each other in the hall. A quick clasp of hands in the parking garage before parting to their respective cars. His hand on her side as he helped her with the straps on her Kevlar, lingering just a beat too long. A loaded look as they both stood outside a suspect's house, guns drawn, preparing to swoop in._Please be careful. You're important to me in a way that's new.

_-How to Fight Loneliness, Chapter 3_

_

* * *

_

Hotch had been en route when JJ called, everyone else hustled in and within forty-five minutes the team was assembled in the roundtable room. Emily was the last to arrive. She and Reid exchanged a quick glance, mutually understanding each other. _Work now, flirt later._

After a quick briefing with the scanty information they had, everyone dashed out to the elevator to head to the airstrip. Reid pressed himself to the back of the elevator, Emily situating herself next to him. He couldn't help himself, he reached out and hooked her pinky finger with his. She pulled on it a little so he knew she returned the gesture.

More information on the victims and the shooting sites came through the fax while they were on the plane, so the flight to Tempe passed quickly as they tried to make sense of the shooter's psychology. Reid spent most of the time triangulating the locations on a map of the area, and all it told him was that the shooter appeared to be traveling in circles.

Not long before they landed, they got word that the shooter had just killed two more people at a cafe. He'd walked in to the crowded restaurant, picked out two people seemingly at random, shot them, then turned around and left in the ensuing pandemonium. How he was eluding the police, who were now out in force patrolling the area, was a mystery, but according to earlier witness statements, he'd changed his appearance in the three hours since the previous shooting.

The police station was in chaos when they arrived. The local lieutenant in charge of the task force practically tackled them as soon as they walked in the door. "We got a letter. From the shooter," he said, not even waiting for introductions. Hotch immediately handed off the letter to Reid for analysis. The rest of the team split off to interview survivors and look at the last crime scene. Emily stayed behind to try and corral all the information pouring in from all quarters.

One of the detectives found him a magnifier and he set to analyzing the letter. "What's it say?" Emily asked.

"It's long and detailed. More like a manifesto. The content is nothing extraordinary, he's disgruntled, he's been treated badly by society, he'll make everyone else suffer as he's suffered, and so on. What interests me is the handwriting. It's extremely controlled." She came up next to him and leaned over his shoulder, then he felt her hand settle on the back of his neck, her thumb making the tiniest stroking motion against his skin. It calmed him a little. "The spaces are even, the letters are carefully formed, he never has to cram in letters because he's running out of room. It's like he's rehearsed writing this. I bet we'll find several drafts of this note in his house where he's written and rewritten it over and over." He shook his head. "This isn't a guy who snapped or had a psychotic break. He's planned this. He's not stopping until he's done, or until we stop him."

Emily's phone rang. Her hand fell away from his neck as she stepped away to answer it and he immediately missed its warmth.

The shooter claimed three more victims that day, one at a library and two at a pizza place. No pattern emerged between the victims nor between the locations where the shootings occurred. Reid felt profoundly useless, as did the rest of the team, when their profile turned out to be not helpful in the slightest. They could tell a lot about the shooter from his actions and his letter, except where he was, who he was and where he'd kill next.

The break in the case came when one of the witnesses actually recognized the shooter as a man who'd worked on a roofing crew at her house. From there it was a short hop to identifying the man, and by eight o'clock that night they were getting ready to raid his house. The agents and police gathered a block away, getting on their Kevlar, breaking up into teams. Reid helped Emily tighten her vest, letting his hand rest on her side for a bit longer than he needed to. As they approached the house and waited to rush in, she looked over at him with a clear "be careful" message in her gaze. He sent her some of the same back, and then they were bursting in, guns raised.

The shooter wasn't in the house. Reid and Morgan had just cleared the living room when suddenly the plate-glass door right next to Reid broke inward in a noisy glut of glass. A sizable rock landed on the carpet, but before anybody could do more than duck, a man leapt through the door and right into Reid, tackling him to the ground. Somewhere in the back of his mind Reid registered Emily calling his name. Before Reid could even think about striking back, hands were hauling the shooter off of him and Morgan had the guy in a headlock on the ground. _It's good to have friends who teach hand-to-hand combat,_ Reid thought.

Emily was suddenly there kneeling next to him. "Are you okay?" she said, worry and fear a little too evident on her face. The feeling in her face touched him even while he worried that someone else would notice.

"I'm fine," he said, sending her a bit of a warning look. _Don't look at me like that. We're just co-workers, remember?_She swallowed hard and dialed down her expression.

"Are you cut?" she asked, her hands flicking over the exposed skin of his arms, neck and face, looking for blood.

"I don't think so." Hotch extended a hand and helped him off the ground. "Ow," he said, rubbing the back of his head. "Might have cracked my skull on the floor, though."

"Oh, we better check that out," Morgan said, having handed off the shooter to the Tempe police. "We don't want anything to happen that that brain in there."

"No, we don't," Emily said, quieter, and without Morgan's joking tone. Reid felt her surreptitiously pat his arm, then she made herself scarce.

Reid watched her go, remembering the look in her eyes when she thought he might be hurt. _If you were waiting for a signal, Dr. Reid, I think you just got it._

_

* * *

_

_Finally, on a Thursday afternoon back at the BAU, she got a text message from him. _Meet me in the file storage room. _Sneaking to the little-used room, looking over her shoulder, keenly aware of being surrounded by profilers. Unlocking the room and slipping inside, locking the door behind her._

_-How to Fight Loneliness, Chapter 3_

_

* * *

_

**THURSDAY**

Reid was biding his time.

The team had returned from Tempe late Monday night, and Tuesday morning had found them back on the jet to Pittsburgh for a child kidnapping. That had kept them away until Wednesday afternoon. The opportunities for Reid and Emily to continue their nonverbal courtship had been few and far between. He'd barely seen her at all on Tuesday, she'd been out in the field with Rossi most of the day and he'd been up to his eyebrows in case files of kidnappings in the area going back ten years. They'd all staggered back to the hotel Tuesday night just before midnight, finally too tired to keep working. He'd felt her hand brush across his back as she headed for her room, around the corner from his. A tiny gesture, but it had buoyed him into his room and into his dreams.

Wednesday night he had finally been hit with the perfect idea for where he could take her on the date he'd been planning in his head for almost two weeks.

Standing on the tarmac at the airport, waiting for the jet to taxi in from its holding area and pick them up, Emily had stood next to him with her arms wrapped around herself against the chill in the night air. He'd wished that he could step up behind her and wrap her up in _his_ arms to keep her warm, but he couldn't. She'd looked up into the sky and smiled. It was a perfectly clear night; it would be the new moon on Friday so the sky was very dark and every star was brilliant, or as much as it could be given their proximity to the city.

"Pretty stars tonight," Rossi had commented, seeing her upward gaze.

"Mmm," she'd agreed. "Beautiful. I used to stargaze when I was a kid. Whenever we'd move to a new place, I'd get out my dad's Atlas of the Heavens and look up which constellations I could see that were different from the last place we'd been, and I'd always look for the North Star. It was like finding one constant thing."

Reid had risked a look over at her profile, tilted up toward the stars, and he knew where to take her.

So now everything was in place. He'd made the necessary calls. All he had to do was ask her. But when? How?

She'd dropped him a wink when she came in that morning. He'd been too nervous to return it. He tried to concentrate on his files and succeeded for the most part, although he was hyperaware of her sitting across from him.

Finally, he couldn't wait anymore. He got up and went down the hall to the only place on the floor he could be sure they wouldn't be disturbed – the file storage room. No one ever went in there. He unlocked the door and slipped inside, then sent her a text message.

Then, he waited.

* * *

**FRIDAY**

Spencer Reid was a man known for his intellect, counted upon by his team for his ability to solve puzzles, piece together clues, and notice details. He'd received a grand total of five commendations from his superiors for his quick and lifesaving solution of cases.

But at the moment, he couldn't even decide which pants to wear.

He glanced at the clock. If he wasn't to be late to pick up Emily, he had to leave in fifteen minutes. He'd had it all worked out, timed down to the last minute, but none of his plans and schedules had included time for pants debate.

Yesterday's rendezvous with Emily in the file storage room had been – exhilarating. She'd barely entered the room before they were kissing, finally kissing again as they had in Minnesota, as he'd longed to kiss her again ever since. And she'd started it, grabbing him and pulling him in with definite intent. If he'd doubted that she wanted this with him, he no longer had to. Somehow he'd mustered the presence of mind to finally ask her out on a date, and she'd said yes. And then she'd kissed him again. They'd stood there in the dark little closet, engaged in what he imagined Garcia would call "making out" for some time before a sense of propriety had drawn them back to their desks.

Today had been agonizing. Knowing where things stood, at least for now, having gotten the words in the open and admitted out loud that there was something going on between them – well, their fun little unacknowledged game was no longer so satisfying nor so fun. It was just an inadequate substitute. Ever conscious of the perceptive eyes of their co-workers, they'd tamped themselves back to pre-Minnesota levels of friendly interaction. No flirty smiles, no clandestine hand-squeezes, no smirky cocked eyebrows. Just a normal day's work in the BAU and vague, circumspect answers to innocent questions from others about their weekend plans.

Morgan's usual teasing about Reid's love life was particularly galling. "How about you, pretty boy?" he'd said, like he did almost every Friday. "Hot date?"

"Sure. Me and some particle physics."

"Oooh. Jump back."

"Particle physics is sexy," Emily said. "All those bosons and leptons and quarks. You know two of the quarks are called 'top' and 'bottom'? Sounds naughty to me." She grinned at him, and Reid was damn near undone by the sight of a woman he was rapidly becoming crazy about smiling and making sexual innuendoes about particle physics.

Somehow, the time had passed. Emily had gotten up to leave right at the stroke of five. "What's your hurry?" Morgan said. "Don't tell me you have a hot date, too."

"As a matter of fact, I do," she said. Reid felt a bright flare of jealousy before he remembered that she was referring to _him._

_I'm her hot date. I think I'm going to pass out._

"Oh yeah? Who's the lucky guy?" Morgan asked, twinkling and smirking all over the place.

Emily didn't so much as glance in Reid's direction. "That is for me to know and you _not_ to find out."

"Hoo, baby," Morgan crowed, grinning. "I like the sound of that."

"You like the sound of your own voice," Emily said, smacking him on the shoulder. "Night, Reid."

"Night, Emily." He watched her leave. She glanced back when she got to the bullpen doors and gave him a tiny eyeroll with a glance at Morgan's back, then she was gone.

And now here he was. He was supposed to pick her up at seven. He now had just eleven minutes to achieve pants. He didn't think it would make a very good impression to show up in his boxer shorts.

His first instinct was just to wear what he'd worn to work that day, but then his better nature had appealed that decision. She'd most certainly change her clothes, and didn't he want her to see that he wanted to look his best for her? He was clean and shaved, his teeth were brushed, his hair was - just sort of hanging there, like it always did. This was what he looked like. Emily seemed to find it attractive, so why make some artificial effort to change things up?

_Wear jeans._

_But isn't that dressing _down?_ Shouldn't I dress _up_ for a date?_

_Garcia says jeans make a man's butt look good._

Spencer had never given much thought to how his pants would affect the appearance of his butt. Not that he had much of a butt.

_Just wear the damn jeans. It'll be a night of Spencer Does Things Differently. Things like wearing jeans, and taking your gorgeous co-worker out on a date._

_And maybe having sex._

He cut that thought off before it could go too much further. He didn't want to presume; she might pick up on any expectation he had and he didn't want to come off like he had an expectation. It'd be up to her how far things went tonight. He was reasonably sure that there would be kissing of some kind, but beyond that, he wasn't going to count on anything.

In the end, he wore the jeans.

When she opened her door in answer to his knock and looked him up and down, he could see that he'd made the correct choice.


	4. Chapter 4

The only sound in the room was their breathing, fast and deep like they'd just run a mile. Emily was draped across his chest, spent. He had one arm slung about her shoulders, one leg hanging off the side of the bed, the sheets tangled around them haphazardly.

Her mind was spinning. _Holy shit, Prentiss. You just had mad crazy sex with Spencer Reid._

__

Yep, you did. And it was pretty damn awesome sex. Chew on that for awhile.

I'd rather chew on him.

Down, girl. Give him a few minutes to recover.

_Does he need it? He just did you twice in less than an hour._

-How to Fight Loneliness, Chapter 5

* * *

Later that night, lying naked in Emily's arms after having made love to her for the first time, Reid mused that the jeans had been just the first of the correct choices he'd made that night.

She'd loved Hilda's. He'd worried she'd think it was dingy or off-putting, but she'd gotten right into the spirit of the place. She'd endured Hilda's enthusiastic greetings and blatant appraisal with good humor. She'd eaten enough paprikash to earn Hilda's approval and laughed at the squabbling couple's antics and off-kilter singing. She'd held his hand as they left the restaurant and he was glad, because he felt like it was keeping him from floating away.

The look on her face when they'd arrived at the observatory and she'd realized where he'd brought her had been more than worth all the agonizing he'd done over where to take her. Her amazement at seeing Saturn through the telescope made him want to bring her here every night, and watching her eyes sparkle as she stood close to his side looking up at the stars – well, their beauty had nothing on her at that moment, and for the first time in the history of his interactions with women, Reid wasn't anxious or nervous. He knew what he wanted and what she wanted, and when he took her in his arms and kissed her under those stars he felt like a regular person, not an awkward genius who'd never learned how to do this, but a normal man kissing a woman who was kissing him back.

He'd felt something change during that kiss. Before it had been almost an experiment, trying something out. Was there something between them? Could there be more? How would it feel, would they want to do it again? This kiss wasn't about trying each other on to see if they fit. This one was about deciding to risk it, pay their money and walk out of the store.

By the time they left the observatory, holding hands again but keeping each other even closer than before, he'd known that she _wanted_ to sleep with him that night, but he still wasn't sure if it would actually happen.

And now the question was moot. Sex had happened, at her instigation. Reid lay on his side, curled close to her with his head tucked against her neck, his cheek resting on the smooth plane of her shoulder, just basking in the feeling of her soft, strong body against his. She had one arm around his back, her hand idly playing with his hair. They'd been lying like this for about twenty minutes, comfortably silent, soaking each other up.

Any nervousness he might have thought he'd have about having sex with her had vanished as they stripped each other naked. He'd just been so damn turned on that there wasn't room in his head for performance anxiety. How sexy she had looked lying beneath him, looking up at him with a deep flush in her chest and cheeks, her pupils dilated until her eyes appeared almost black, her hands opening the fly of his jeans as she murmured that she wanted him. He'd been tempted to pinch himself to make sure this was real and he hadn't fallen into a fantasy. The reality of her had left any fantasy he'd ever had far in the dust. Her skin was so smooth and her hands on him were demanding. The first time her hand had wrapped around his penis he'd had to bite his lip and think about probability mechanics to avoid coming right then and there, but he'd managed not to embarrass himself. Her body was as beautiful as he'd imagined, and the fact that she was inviting him to make it his, and that she was so forthrightly claiming his as her own, was a deeper turn-on than anything else.

When he'd finally slid into her with a deep sigh of fulfillment, she'd wrapped her arms and legs around him as if she never wanted him to leave, and he got it. For the first time he really got why men for millennia had fought and killed and died for this, because at that moment he felt like he'd do anything, he'd lie or cheat or steal, as long as it meant he could stay here forever and never be parted from her again. He had no idea how he'd managed to hold off long enough for her to come first, but the effort was worth it because it meant he was able to watch her, her beautiful neck arching and her mouth dropping open as she cried out, her fingers clutching in his hair and on his shoulder, her breath gasping fast in and out of her chest as she rode it out. She'd kissed him ferociously as she moaned out the tail end of her orgasm, crushing his head between her hands and thrusting her tongue into his mouth, then drew back and growled in his ear, "I want to see you come now."

That was just about all it took, actually. A few incoherent thrusts and then he was groaning into her mouth and burying himself deep, his brain shutting down in white-hot overload for a few moments.

He'd fantasized about the sex, sure. But what he'd daydreamed about more was what they were doing now. Just lying in each other's arms, not speaking. He could feel a connection knitting itself tight between them and even after he went home and they were apart again, he knew it would still be there.

Reid shifted and scooted up a little bit so his head was even with hers. He propped up on one elbow and looked down at her. Emily turned her head to meet his eyes. There were a lot of things he would like to have said, but one practical thing took precedence. "We didn't use a condom."

"Nope."

"Should we have?"

"I trust that you don't have any diseases."

"Thanks, but that wasn't my primary concern."

"I have an IUD. The Pill gives me awful mood swings."

He nodded. "I should have asked first."

"I'm responsible for my own body, Spencer."

"I know." He leaned over and kissed her, slow and lingering. When he drew back she was smiling up at him.

"That was amazing," she whispered.

He felt himself blush. "It's okay, you don't have to stroke my ego."

"I'm not. I'll be happy to stroke other parts, though," she said with a mischievous little nose-crinkle, her hand wandering over his shoulder and down his upper arm. "Anyway, it's true. That was quite a ride you just gave me."

"Yeah?" he said, daring to believe her.

"Hasn't a woman ever told you that before?"

He shrugged. "Maybe it was never true before. Anyway, I was never sure what to do afterwards. Stay and cuddle? Kiss goodnight and get the hell out? I never knew what to say or how to act."

"You don't seem to be having trouble now."

"It's different with you." He met her eyes. "Everything's different with you."

"So this isn't normal for you?"

He chuckled a little. "I told someone once that I'd never known a normal day in my life. I hardly know what normal is. But...I'll tell you one thing."

"What?"

"This is the most normal I've ever felt." He smiled down at her, his friend and now his lover, and was surprised to see a little extra wetness in her eyes. She drew him down and kissed him again, her hands running up and down his chest. When they pulled apart, that moisture in her eyes had been replaced by desire.

"I can't believe you were hiding this body under those grandpa sweaters," she said.

"It's nothing special."

"Oh, I'll be the judge of that," she said, grinning. She bent and kissed his chest, flicking her tongue over his nipple. He shivered. "I think it's very nice."

"It'll do, as long as you don't find muscle tone appealing."

"Stop putting yourself down. It isn't very attractive," she said, lifting her head from his chest and frowning at him.

He shrugged. "I've just learned to be realistic."

"What's realistic is that not every girl is looking for a Morgan."

"Sometimes I think that's only true in theory."

She sighed. "Dr. Reid, you are naked in bed with a woman who is very satisfied, and she's telling you that she finds you ten kinds of sexy. Empirically, what does this evidence lead you to conclude?"

Her words buoyed him up and he grinned at her. "I can't make a conclusion yet. I'd need more evidence." He pulled her to him and rolled them both over, pinning her under him again.

She giggled very fetchingly and grabbed his ass. "You are a harsh taskmaster, Agent Reid." She gave him a shove, hooked her leg behind his knee and somehow flipped them both back over, landing astride him and wriggling her butt back against his rapidly hardening cock. "But this round's to me." She bent and kissed him, and he knew that there would be no more talking for awhile.

* * *

_"Can we look inside?"_

_"It isn't safe right now. The building's in pretty bad shape structurally. I got it for practically nothing, so I can use most of the money to renovate. Morgan's going to help me do it frugally, so I'll still have some to save for my mom's medical bills. They've started on the subfloors already."_

_"It's amazing. I can't wait to see it when it's done."_

_He grinned. "Yeah. Me neither."_

_-How to Fight Loneliness, Chapter 5_

* * *

They got back in the car, Reid taking one more look up at this house that was, incomprehensibly, his. He was a little terrified of all the work ahead and all the checks he'd have to write and the rapid denuding of the balance in the account where he'd deposited the money from his father, but told himself it would all be worth it in the end. He'd have a unique house that was just what he wanted, and it would be paid for. No rent, no mortgage. What a fantastic notion that was.

Emily was looking around the neighborhood as they turned around and drove out the way they'd come. "Hmm. Suburbia."

"I know."

"It's a little terrifying."

"I don't know what I'm going to say to these people."

"Maybe you won't have to. Maybe they're the insular type."

"I don't think so. I've already been accosted twice when I was here looking at the building. I think the whole neighborhood is champing at the bit for someone to either fix up that place or bulldoze it. They're going to be riveted when the renovations start."

"Well – if you start wearing Dockers and talking about your stock portfolio I'm sending in the deprogrammers."

He grinned. "I'm glad you have my back."

They had just pulled up to a stoplight. Emily leaned over and whispered in his ear. "I'd rather have your front," she said, and suddenly her hand was on his fly.

Reid jumped. "Driving! I'm driving here!"

She drew back, looking pleased with herself. "All right, I'll be good. For now."

He pulled through the intersection. He wanted to ask her what was happening next, but he was afraid she'd say something like "Well, I have a lot of things to do, so just drop me off..." and that would be it.

_Think of something to say that's not presumptuous but gives her an opening._

A few blocks later, he thought of something. "I ought to take a shower after all this exertion," he said.

"You can shower at my place. Don't you have a go bag in the car?"

It was all he could do not to beam in triumph. "Yeah, in the trunk."

She looked over at him and he could see that she wasn't fooled. "You're not inconveniencing me, you know. Quit giving me chances to send you home." She blinked, then looked a little uncertain. "Unless you _want_ to go home," she said.

"No! I mean – I'd rather stay with you."

"I don't want to keep you from your work. You always seem to be doing work on the weekends."

"I work because I don't have anything better to do. It makes me feel productive."

She smirked. "Are you saying that I'm something better to do?"

He glanced over at her. "It beats reading back issues of _Journal of Behavioral Profiling._"

"Gee, thanks." She slid her hand over his knee. "And don't worry. I'll make sure you feel extremely productive."

Reid stepped on the gas a little. No reason to dawdle.

* * *

They were already kissing before they got in the door of her condo. Emily fumbled for the key with one hand, her other arm wound around Reid's neck, her back pressed against the door. Reid slipped his arm around her waist and hauled her against him, plucked the key from her hand and opened the door himself. They stumbled through, laughing as they tripped on the threshold, and Emily kicked the door shut as she shoved him up against the wall of the entryway. Reid dropped his go bag on the floor so he could get both hands on her. He feared he wasn't exhibiting very much finesse, all grabby hands and grasping arms and haphazard lips, but she wasn't much better so he guessed it was okay. He turned them around and pressed her back to the wall, angling his head to dive deeper, get more of her, he just wanted _more._She raised one knee and he grabbed her leg under her thigh, hiking it high over his hip. A moan slipped past her lips as he ground their lower bodies together, looking down into her upturned face, her cheeks flushed with arousal. She reached around him and grabbed his ass, pulling him in even tighter. Reid's heart was racing; he was practically gasping for breath. "You drive me crazy," he muttered, the words escaping him before he even knew he was going to say them.

She rewarded him with a low and sexy laugh. "How crazy?" she said, her hands busy on his lower back and ass.

"I don't know," he said, sliding his hand up her chest until it was filled with her soft breast. He kneaded it gently, watching her eyes go half-mast. "You tell me."

Her chest was heaving with deep, aroused breaths now. "Well, you drive me crazy like – crop circles crazy."

He smiled, still fondling her breast, his other hand on her ass, holding her tightly to him. "How about learning to speak Elvish crazy?"

"You're telling me you don't speak Elvish? I'm disappointed." One of her hands had migrated around to the front of his pants and was stroking him through the fabric.

"That's a nerdy bridge too far, even for me." He ducked his head and pressed his lips to her neck, sucking on the soft skin there, feeling her racing pulse under his lips. _I'm doing that to her. I'm making her heart beat like that, just like she's doing to me._ She arched her neck and tangled her hand in his hair, holding him close, while her other hand stayed busy on his fly. Suddenly her hand was inside the front of his jeans and wrapped around his erection. "Crazy like if Hotch found out about this," he murmured, recapturing her lips.

"Crazy like us having sex right here in the hallway," she growled between kisses. Both her hands were at his fly now, scrabbling to unzip him. That statement left Reid beyond any kind of verbal response. His mind went blank and all there was in the world was her and him and the need to be inside her like he'd die otherwise. Then his pants were open and she was shoving her own down and turning around; he didn't like that, it meant he couldn't see her face or kiss her, but he was beyond arguing. She reached back and yanked him tight up against her. He slid his hands over the tops of her thighs, bent his legs and pushed forward, seeking her center and finding it. She groaned and pushed back at him, flattening her hands against the wall. Reid sagged forward against her back, wrapping both arms around her and kissing whatever he could reach, her neck, her cheeks, her shoulder blades. "Come on," she hissed.

_I never imagined she'd be so...uninhibited,_ some vestige of rationality mused. But it didn't have much else to say. This wasn't like the lovemaking they'd shared the night before. This sex was hard, it was fast, it was frantic. He couldn't think about drawing it out or holding back, all he could do was give it to her like she wanted as much as he was able, although he didn't know if hallway-sex was really his forte. He'd have felt more confident in a bed, where there were familiar things – where there was leverage. Emily was making amazing little high-pitched grunting noises that spurred him on despite the awkwardness of the position and Reid knew he couldn't last. That primal urge was rising in him again, the reptile brain that made him want to come inside her and do it sooner rather than later. One of her hands was now between her legs, stroking herself; Reid slipped his hand under the hem of her shirt and cupped her breast.

It was over too quickly. She clenched around him and slapped her free hand against the wall, her head dropping down, and that pulled him over the edge with her. They stayed there for a moment, sort of propping each other up while they caught their breath. Emily slid off him, turned around and kissed him with frenetic enthusiasm and uncertain aim. "Damn," she breathed. "That was hot."

"Ow," he said, straightening up, his bad knee giving a twinge. He gave it a little shake.

"Oh!" she said, her satisfied post-sex expression falling away to be replaced by concern. "Oh, your knee...that couldn't have been good for it."

"It's fine."

"I'm sorry, I..."

He held up a hand. "I don't remember you twisting my arm."

"No, I just pounced on you." They were both straightening themselves up a little. Pants were back in their appropriate places.

"You said something about a shower earlier," Reid said, palming a little sweat off his brow.

"Yeah, that sounds like a good idea." She picked up his go bag. "C'mon. Upstairs." His knee kept pinging now and then as he climbed them. Emily watched him ascend from the top step, looking worried. "Oh, honey. You didn't hurt it, did you?"

He barely heard her. "What did you call me?"

She smiled a little shyly. "Um...I think I called you 'honey.'"

"Wow."

"Is that okay?"

"Sure. I just didn't think I'd get an endearment this quickly."

"We seem to be doing everything at breakneck speed." He followed her into the bedroom where they'd spent such a memorable night. "Towels are here. Use whatever, although I'd stay away from the brown shower gel unless you want to smell like a cookie for the rest of the day."

He nodded, opening his go bag on the bed and pulling out a change of clothes. "Glad I packed these cords. I don't really want to hang out here wearing dress pants and a blazer."

Emily grinned. "You do look cute in them, though."

He blushed again and gave her a little eyeroll as he passed her on his way into the bathroom. A sudden thought struck him and he paused, turning back to face her. "Uh...you didn't...did you want to, uh...join me?"

She blinked. "No, why?"

"Oh. Good. I just thought women liked that sort of thing."

"Showering together? Overrated. I'll take my turn when you're done."

"Sweet."

* * *

Reid came downstairs, hair damp, and found Emily sitting on the couch with her laptop. "Shower's all yours."

She got up and smiled at him. "Your hair's all curled up at the ends," she said, fingering the wet tips of his hair.

"I have to let it air-dry or it turns into a giant frizzball."

She headed for the stairs but stopped and turned back just as she reached them. "What do you want to do today?"

"Umm...I don't know. How, uh...how long do you want me to stay?"

"How long do you want to stay?"

"I don't know, as long as you want me to stay."

She shook her head. "Well, this is getting us nowhere."

"I don't know what to say."

"Tell me what you want. Don't worry about what I want."

"Honestly? What I want is to spend as much time with you as you'll let me."

"I think we're on the same page, Spencer." For a few moments they just stood there beaming at each other. "I'm going to take a shower and then we can just chill," she finally said. "We don't have to do anything or even talk. You'll deny it, but I know that there is something you probably want to work on or read or commit to memory. You can. Do your work and I'll do mine and at some point there'll have to be food and maybe later we can go out. If we feel like it."

Reid smiled. That sounded like the perfect day. "Awesome."


	5. Chapter 5

As the afternoon progressed, Reid was amazed how comfortable he felt at Emily's house. She'd been right, he did have some journals he wanted to read and a draft he wanted to work on for an article he was preparing on behavioral countermeasures. He would gladly have traded work time on these tasks to spend time with Emily, but since she'd suggested it, he was just as glad to be able to do both. When she came downstairs, showered and changed and looking fresh and scrubbed, he was on the couch with his laptop open on his knees. She'd immediately hauled out a thick volume (it looked like a new book on borderline personality disorder that he'd read himself a few months back), curled into the other corner of the couch and started reading.

A little while later, she got up and made a pot of coffee. When she returned to the couch she brought him a cup, which came with a kiss. Then back to reading. It was all so – easy. Was it supposed to be this easy? Wasn't this supposed to be the stage of a new relationship when they were each bending over backwards to impress each other and be as "on" all the time as possible?

Of course, his relationship with Emily wasn't new. It was changing, but it wasn't new. He'd known her for years, they were already comfortable around each other. The fact that they'd now seen each other naked didn't seem to change that.

The next three hours passed quietly, with occasional breaks for discussion of their respective projects. But mostly, they sat together in companionable silence, each with their own task, and Reid felt at home here with her. That was encouraging.

Around four o'clock he was busily typing away on his draft when he felt her eyes on him. He looked over and she'd put her book aside and was just watching him, a little smile on her face. "What?" he said.

She crawled across the couch cushions and settled herself next to him. "I think I'm getting a little crush on you, Dr. Reid."

He chuckled. "Oh yeah?"

"I think so, yeah."

"Well, if you sit next to me in study hall I might like you back." He turned his head to look down into her upturned face; on impulse he rubbed his nose across hers, then leaned in and kissed her.

"I had fun with you these last two weeks," she said, her eyes twinkling.

"Me, too," he said.

"You sound like that surprises you."

"No, it's just that I thought I'd be more impatient to get on with it. But it was kinda fun, wasn't it?"

She nodded. "Having it there but not there, having to keep it quiet. I have not forgiven you for making me spar with Morgan that day, either."

"You have only yourself to blame for wearing that red tank top."

She sighed and leaned her head against his shoulder, their fingers tangling together. "The only bad part is that now that we're here, how do we go back to work on Monday?"

Reid had been wondering about that, too. "It might not be so bad."

"How do you figure?"

"Well, all the time we're at work we'll know that soon we'll be able to be alone together again, and be like this. Maybe that'll make it easier to act like we're just co-workers."

"Yeah," she said, not sounding too convinced. "It's just going to be hard sitting across from you all day, knowing that I can't go over and kiss you if I want to."

"You wouldn't do that even if everyone knew about us. It isn't appropriate workplace behavior."

"I hate being appropriate all the time. Don't you ever just want to be wildly inappropriate?"

"Not really. I've been involuntarily inappropriate for most of my life. It gets old."

She took a deep breath and straightened up. The topic felt closed. "Let's stay in tonight."

"Okay."

"I'll cook something. We'll watch a movie."

"Sold."

She grinned up at him. "I like this."

"What?"

"Just having you here. It's nice. It's...low-pressure."

"I couldn't agree more."

She kissed him again and retreated to her side of the couch, picked up her book and kept reading.

* * *

"Will it bother you if I put on some music?" Emily asked from the kitchen.

"No, go ahead," Reid said, distracted. It sounded like she was chopping something. A few seconds later a low, sultry voice came over her iPod speakers, singing a bluesy song that sounded vaguely familiar, but he couldn't place it. He paused in his typing and listened for a few moments, smiling as he realized that Emily was chopping in time to the song. It sounded like she was singing under her breath, too.

He quietly got up and leaned against the wall by the kitchen, watching her at the counter. Her hips were swaying gently from side to side with the music. She was wearing a t-shirt that was clinging to her in all the right places. It rode up as she moved her arms, exposing strips of creamy skin at her waist.

A little impulse wormed its way into his mind. _No, you can't._

__

Why not?

It's rude.

No, it isn't. I'm her...whatever. Her lover. Her boyfriend, maybe. I'm allowed to touch her.

_So do it._

He stole forward on his stockinged feet and slipped his hands up over her shoulders, giving them a squeeze. She didn't turn around, just looked back a little to acknowledge his presence. He pulled her hair aside and kissed her neck. He felt her tremble a little and she tilted her head to give him room, but she kept chopping vegetables like nothing was going on. He slid his hands down her back to her waist, then around to her front, stepping up a little closer behind her. He kept kissing her neck, his hands sliding under her t-shirt to stroke her stomach. Emily's chopping was becoming more and more sporadic. She leaned her head back into his shoulder, one of her hands coming up to cup the back of his head. "Mmm," she sighed as his hand moved up her chest. He worked his fingers under her bra and dug until her silky breast filled his hand. "Spencer," she whispered, and started to turn around.

He put his other hand on her hip and stilled her. "No," he murmured into her ear. "Stay."

She nodded, her breath speeding as he rolled her nipple between his fingers. He'd already figured out that her breasts were very sensitive. He moved his mouth to the other side of her neck, tilting her the other direction, and slid his right hand down her stomach and under the waistband of her jeans. She gasped as his fingers probed her, the knife falling from her grasp. She gripped the edge of the counter with both hands and arched like a cat against him as he stroked her firmly, finding her most sensitive spot and circling it with his index finger, pressing lightly then harder, dipping beneath to slide his finger inside her and back out again. "Oh, _fuck,_" she groaned, her legs sliding a little further apart to give him better access. Her arousal and the way she abandoned herself to it was more erotic than he'd known it was possible to be. This was her secret self and she was letting him see it, she was letting him tease it out of her. As he watched her, eyes closed and throat bared, her whole body trembling, she looked like a goddess to him and he couldn't believe he actually got to touch her.

He knew she was close by the kittenish little whines coming from her. He moved his hand from her breast to her cheek, turned her face toward him and kissed her as he kept stroking her, wanting to feel her go over the edge. She clutched at the back of his head and kissed him back as he felt her fall to pieces in his arms, her cries smothered by his mouth, her hips moving in sensual arcs against his hand as she shuddered and twitched and finally sagged. He wrapped both arms around her waist and held her, pressing his face into the crook of her neck. "Jesus," she panted. "You really are a genius," she said, smiling a little.

He chuckled. "No. You just bring it out of me."

She turned around now and wound her arms around his neck, kissing him again, one hand going to his fly. "Your turn."

He stopped her fingers. "No. That was just for you."

"You're not going to let me have my fun now?" she pouted.

"Later."

"Damn right, later," she said. For a few moments they just stood there, arms linked loosely around each other's waists. "Spencer, I...I feel like I owe you an apology."

"Why?"

"Because when I imagined this, being with you, dating you, I never imagined that you'd be so...sexy. I never thought you could be like how you just were with me, how you've been this whole time. I shouldn't have underestimated you. People do that all the time. Local cops and UNSUBs and even people who ought to know better. I should know better."

"Emily, I underestimated myself. I didn't know if I could please a woman like you. I wasn't sure I'd be enough for you, if I'd be any good with you. I've done all right with other women but I've never been able to feel free with any of them like I already do with you. So if I'm being sexier than you thought, take the credit." He smiled and kissed her. "Just one question, though."

"What?"

"What is this music?"

"Oh, is that what got you going? It's Nina Simone. I'll have to remember that."

* * *

They ate dinner at her small table, just salad and some pasta with cream sauce. They drank wine and talked about their families and their job and their favorite places to go in DC. It was easy talk that started getting them past the surface facts they'd already known about each other and down to the more personal things that they didn't tell casual friends.

They washed the dishes together and Reid was struck again by the easy domesticity. You'd think they'd been dating for months instead of twenty-four hours.

Afterwards, they sat in the living room and worked on the paper they were writing together. They hadn't had much time for it since Minnesota, with several high-profile cases at the BAU and urgent consultations for each of them.

"I got all of Niedermeier's school records," Emily said, pulling a folder out of her briefcase. "There's some medical records in here, too. Everything's really sporadic and spotty. Lots of time gaps."

"That's to be expected with a kid in and out of foster care."

"His foster care records are sealed. I've got JJ working on that. He's also got a juvenile record that's been expunged."

That got Reid's attention. He looked up from the prison interview notes. "Does it have any names of arresting officers?"

"It's got docket numbers and a court case. I can call the precinct on Monday and try and find out who worked the case."

Reid nodded. "Can you start a timeline for him, as far back as possible?"

"Sure. I've got his birth records somewhere, too."

For the next few hours Emily sat cross-legged on the floor using the coffee table as a desk, making notes as she combed through Niedermeier's childhood. Reid was breaking down his MMPI test results and his answers to the VICAP questionnaire. They paused frequently to compare notes and share important insights.

But at eight o'clock, Emily put down her pen. "Okay. Enough work. I require an old black and white mystery movie. Possibly something from the Hitchcock oeuvre."

"Ooh! Do you have 'Rebecca?'"

"Of course. It's my favorite."

"Mine, too. Let's watch that one."

Emily put the movie in and they turned off all the lights to watch it, tucked close together on the couch, Emily's legs curled under her and Reid's stretched out and propped up on the coffee table. "Do you think he really loved her?" Reid asked at one point. "Or did he just marry her to get away from the memory of Rebecca?"

"I think he really loved her, but for some sketchy reasons. He loved her because she wasn't like Rebecca, but notice that as the movie goes on, she gets more sophisticated and grown up. More like Rebecca, in other words."

"I think he wanted some reassurance that he could control her, like he couldn't control Rebecca. Rebecca's real crime was that she was sexually liberated and in control of her own sexual power at a time when that wasn't appropriate for women, and it was threatening to him. He wanted to keep his new wife innocent, so she wouldn't threaten his ego."

"That's a cynical interpretation. He also despised the phony way he was raised and craved the company of someone real and grounded, and he found that appealing in her. She's not the only one who changes in the movie, he does too, and becomes more expressive and content because of her."

"But notice...look, here it is..." They waited for the scene to pass. "Notice how he says to her 'I have always loved you' and 'I shall always love you.' He never actually says 'I love you.' In fact he never says that. It's like he's removing it from himself, from the moment they're sharing. He's afraid of committing his emotions to the woman in front of him because he was so traumatized by the power of a dead woman."

Emily sighed, shaking her head. "We are hopeless. We're profiling a _fictional character._"

Reid laughed. "This character is begging for it."

They went quiet and watched the end of the movie. As the credits rolled, Emily picked up the remote and turned the TV off, plunging the room into darkness, only the sparkling lights of DC out the picture window offering any illumination. He felt her hands on his shoulders and let himself be pulled down onto the couch with her. "You're not afraid of a woman in control of her sexual power, are you?" she whispered, twining her legs with his.

Reid couldn't think of a way to tell her how much he wasn't, so he decided just to show her.

* * *

Reid woke up alone in Emily's bed, the sunlight streaming in. He stretched, feeling how well-used his body was after these last few marathon days with Emily. God, he never thought he'd ever have so much sex in so little time. Twice on Friday night, once Saturday morning, then in the hallway Saturday afternoon, then he'd gotten her off at the kitchen counter. After the movie was over, they'd stayed on the couch for a good hour, just kissing and touching each other. That had been awesome. There was something so sexy and intimate about it, slow and lazy kissing, caressing, holding, whispering. But eventually she'd gotten up and led him upstairs, and there they'd made love again, starting to feel confident with each other now, exploring some new territory.

She came into the room wearing his shirt, carrying a plate with some donuts on it and two mugs of coffee, a thick Sunday paper tucked under her arm. "Oh good, you're up."

"Donuts?"

"I ran out and got some and a paper."

"Dressed like that?"

She smacked his shoulder. "I put on pants, thank you very much." She shimmied out of Reid's shirt, leaving her in only her panties, and came back to bed. She snuggled close and kissed him, smelling like outdoors. "Good morning."

"Good morning."

"Except it's the end of our weekend," she said, looking a little disappointed.

"There'll be another one in five days."

"Sounds like a long time to me."

"Honestly, I never imagined that our first date would go all weekend," he said.

Emily got a thoughtful expression on her face, then turned on her side and looked right into his eyes. He slid his arm over her side and matched her gaze. "I know this probably goes without saying," she said, "but I really like you."

"I like you, too. And I don't think anything goes without saying in this situation. Best to get things out in the open."

"I agree. So here it is. I've known you for a long time and I've always liked you. But that night, in that hotel room, I saw something else in you. Know what I mean?" He nodded. "I should tell you that I've been attracted to you for awhile. Before Minnesota. I was aware of it, but I sort of dismissed it as theoretical, like how I find Ewan McGregor attractive. True, but kind of irrelevant. You just weren't that guy to me."

Reid was getting a sinking feeling. Had she changed her mind? Was she leading up to a conversation about how this couldn't go any further, that they couldn't be anything more to each other than friends and co-workers? He'd been thinking they were already past the point of dismissing it, but maybe he was wrong. If so, it was rather cavalier of her to deliver that blow while cuddled up in bed with him.

"Hey," she said, seeing his discomfort. She took his chin in her hand and tilted his face back over to hers. "No. That's not what I'm saying." He relaxed a little. "I know yesterday morning I said I wanted to see where this was going, that I wanted to give it a shot. I'm saying that I think I already know where this is going."

"You do?"

She nodded. "Right now, I feel more comfortable with you, more connected to you, than I ever have to any other man, even after dating them for months. I've been thinking that I can't jump in this fast, I have to give it time, but now I'm wondering why I'm afraid to just tell you what I want."

"What do you want?"

"I want to be with you. I want us to be...you know. Together. I guess I'm saying I want to be exclusive."

"Emily, I wasn't planning on dating anyone else."

She sighed. "I'm not expressing myself very well. Spencer, I'm asking you to – to be my boyfriend, I guess." She flushed and laughed a little. "Sounds so middle-school. I don't want to go on dates and be scheduling everything. I just want to know that I'm going to see you, I want to be able to assume that I'll talk to you every day, that we'll spend the night together if we can, that you're always my first call. I want you to just show up here and let yourself in, and I want to be able to do the same at your place. I want to just know that if I make plans for a concert or to go to a park or to drive up to Annapolis to go art shopping that you're part of those plans. I want you to come take care of me if I'm sick and I want to do the same for you." She stopped herself, the words having started to tumble out on their own, and Reid knew that she was telling him things she wanted that she'd never had with other men. "I guess I just want to be your most important person. And I want you to be mine."

Reid stared at her, speechless. He'd never imagined that he'd be anybody's most important person, except his mother's and she didn't count. It was an idea that both terrified him and filled him with a kind of joy he'd only heard about from others.

Emily was looking a little nervous at his silence. "I know I'm being a little intense. We've only been on one date." She sounded afraid that he would slam on the brakes, that he'd react badly to her overtures, that it was too much, too soon.

He smiled. "Technically, we're still _on_ that date."

"I just don't see any reason to beat around the bush. I think we both know how we feel about each other, don't we?"

He would have said it right then and there. _I know that I love you, Emily. I already know. _But he couldn't. It was way too soon for that, and he knew that she'd be cautious, not with herself but with those words. She was already willing to share herself with him, to share her life, but she wouldn't commit by verbalizing it until she'd had more time to process it. He knew her. He knew that he'd have to be patient, and that part of her would be waiting for it to end and it would take time for her to believe in them, much as she wanted to. So he just nodded, then pulled her close and kissed her, the kind of slow and deep kiss he already knew she liked.

* * *

Around three o'clock, they both began looking at each other with expressions that said _well, we might as well get it over with._

They'd lounged around in bed until noon, eating donuts and drinking coffee and reading the paper. They'd gotten into a tickle fight that had turned into sex and finally gotten up when it was just too slovenly not to. They'd gotten dressed and gone for a walk in Emily's neighborhood, lingering in a park, holding hands like they were any couple you might see walking by on the street. Reid supposed they were.

He packed up his laptop and his work materials, strewn as they were across the coffee table. Emily watched him, her expression grim. "I don't know how we're going to do this," she muttered.

"We'll do it. It's not like we're not allowed to speak to each other. And unless we have to go out of town, we can see each other in the evenings."

She nodded. "I guess so."

He walked up to her and cupped her face in his hands. "Hey. Being insecure is supposed to be my thing, remember?"

"I just don't want to fuck this up."

"We won't."

"I'm not worried about you, I'm worried about _me_ fucking it up. I can't do that, not with you."

"You're Emily Prentiss, the woman every other agent in our building wants to be like. You can't possibly fuck it up."

She snorted derisively. "I obviously haven't told you enough about my relationship history. I didn't want to scare you off."

"So you're afraid of fucking it up, I'm afraid you'll just wake up and wonder what the hell you were thinking."

That got her to smile. "No chance."

"Good." He sighed, hands on his hips. "Well, I guess I better..."

"Yeah," she said, staring at her shoes.

He picked up his go bag and carried it to the door, then came back for his coat and his messenger bag. He went to her and ran both hands down her arms until he was holding both her hands. She didn't look at him, just tipped forward until her forehead was resting on his shoulder. He kissed the side of her head. "I'll see you in the morning."

"Okay," she said. "It's gonna suck." She tilted her head back and kissed his mouth. "Call me before you go to sleep."

"I will." She followed him to the door. He picked up his go bag and opened the door, then turned back and kissed her again.

She squeezed his hand. "Drive safe, honey."

He smiled to hear her call him that again. "Bye." He made it into the hallway and shut the door behind him. He paused and took a deep breath, resisting the urge to just go back in there and stay until they both had to get up and go to work in the morning. He squared his shoulders and headed off down the hall, reassuring himself that there'd be other nights and other weekends. Hopefully, a lot of them.


	6. Chapter 6

_two weeks later_

_

* * *

_

Reid dialed Emily's number and waited. She'd be able to see that it was him, of course. He didn't expect her to be in a great mood tonight.

"Hi," she said when she picked up. "I didn't know if you'd call." She sounded a little down.

"Just because I'm in Seattle doesn't mean I'm not going to call you."

"I'm glad."

"You don't sound glad."

"No, I am. I'm just bummed out in a general way."

"It's only a birthday, Em."

"It's not only a birthday! It's the last birthday before that big scary one. And don't tell me how young I am, you are a mere infant compared to me."

"You're only thirty-nine."

"Not yet! Not until tomorrow! Don't make me take it until it's time!" He heard her sigh. "I just want to feel sorry for myself tonight, okay? It's my birthday, I'm going to be ducking my mother all weekend, my friends keep wanting to take me out to celebrate and I'm running out of excuses, and my boyfriend, who is the only person I actually want to see, is on the other side of the country."

Reid felt warmth bloom in his stomach to hear her say that she wanted to see him. Two weeks ago to the day they'd gone on their first date, which had morphed into an entire weekend the likes of which he couldn't have imagined. Since then, things had been great, even if the scheduling was a nightmare. They'd agreed that they could see each other on weeknights but wouldn't stay overnight, just to keep things a little less complex. That first week they'd spent Tuesday and Wednesday evening together. Nothing extraordinary. Takeout, TV, work, talking, and sex. It had been hard to get up from her bed and leave to go home, but in the end it was better that way. Last weekend she'd spent Friday night at his place but had gone home on Saturday morning so she could spend the day with her college friend Kate, passing through town. He hadn't seen her again until Sunday evening, and that had been basically a booty call. She'd asked him to come over and they pretty much went straight to bed. This past week had been harder, they'd had two out-of-town cases and hadn't managed to spend any evenings together. They'd agreed that if they had any hope of keeping their relationship a secret from the team, they couldn't be together when they were on the road, so no visiting each other's hotel rooms. So he hadn't seen her alone since Sunday.

Now he had this trip to Seattle, where he was speaking at a criminology conference.

Or so she thought.

"I'm sorry. I wish I was there."

"Me, too. If I had a cake with candles I'd blow them out and wish that you were here. Oh, hang on…someone's at the door. Who the hell is that? If it's Garcia I'm getting my gun."

He heard her footsteps approaching and then her door opened and there she was, her phone to her ear. Reid grinned and lowered his own phone. Her jaw dropped. "Wh…what are you…you're not in Seattle!" she exclaimed.

"Happy birthday," he said.

Emily blinked hard a couple of times, putting her phone in her pocket, then threw her arms around his neck and hugged him hard. Reid wrapped her up and held her. "I can't believe you're here," she said, muffled against his shoulder. She drew back and smiled up at him. "What about the conference?"

"It's next weekend. I had the dates wrong and when I discovered the mistake, I thought I'd just let you keep thinking I was going out of town so I could surprise you."

She laughed. Incredibly, she was leaking tears. "It's a good surprise."

"Em…are you crying?"

"No! Well, maybe a little. I really was feeling pretty depressed tonight, and I was sitting here missing you to a degree that, frankly, I find a little disturbing." They'd made it into the apartment by then.

Reid sat down on the couch and pulled her down next to him. "I didn't realize you were this stressed out about your birthday."

"I didn't realize it, either. I thought it was fine. Then all of a sudden – bam. And I was looking forward to spending this birthday with someone I really care about – that's you, by the way – and then bam, you're out of town."

"I'm sorry. I wouldn't have done this if I knew it was going to upset you."

"No, no! You can't organize your life around me! And I loved the surprise. It's not your fault I had an emo attack."

"Isn't that a Muppet?" Reid said, frowning.

Emily stared at him blankly for a moment, then busted out laughing. "No, that's _Elmo,_ Reid. _Emo._ Whatever that means, I'm definitely too old to be using that word, I guess."

"Did you make plans for the rest of the weekend?"

"Attempts were made to make plans with _me,_ but I made up excuses. I was just going to sit in the Jacuzzi the whole time and drink all the wine in the house."

"Good, because we're driving out to the Eastern Shore and staying the rest of the weekend in a private cabin on Chesapeake Bay. I hope you can pack fast. And yes, there is a hot tub. I checked."

Emily watched for a moment, possibly gauging whether he was serious. Seeing that he was, a grin gradually spread across her face. "And with that, you have just been upgraded to Best Boyfriend Ever."

"The cabin rental comes with the services of a massage therapist, if you want."

"Okay, that's it. Come on." She got up and hauled him to his feet, leading him toward the stairs.

"And I asked them to stock the cabin with the gourmet chocolate assortment."

"Stop it. No more talking. I absolutely must give you a blowjob immediately."

"Shutting up now."

* * *

_Sunday morning_

_

* * *

_

Reid thought it was possible that getting Emily away for her birthday weekend had been the best idea he'd ever had. Her spirits had brightened considerably away from the city, and the cabin had turned out to be charming and comfortable, the promised chocolates waiting for them. He'd watched her relax a little at a time as they'd thrown together an impromptu late dinner and then adjourned to the hot tub, and later to the bed where she had shown him in no uncertain terms how much she was enjoying the solitude.

Saturday had dawned sunny and crisp, and she had woken him with hands on his body and kisses on his neck. He had sleepily taken her into his arms and the morning sex was languid and satisfying. The rest of the day had passed too quickly. They'd gone into Chestertown and wandered around, looking at the shops and the historic buildings, holding hands and strolling the streets. Reid seemed to see other couples everywhere. Couples like themselves, holding hands, smiling at each other, walking close together, sharing private looks and laughs. It was strange to think that he could have anything in common with them. Sometimes he'd happen to catch their eyes as he and Emily passed them on the streets, imagining that there was some secret code shared between happy couples. _Us, too. We're a happy couple, too._

The time had passed too quickly. He wished they could stay longer, but they both had work in the morning, and he had a prior commitment this evening.

He sat on the double Adirondack rocker on the porch, looking out across the Bay and dreading the conversation he was determined to have, not because he wanted to, but because he knew he had to.

Emily came out and joined him. "I've got everything packed," she said. "When do you want to leave?"

"Check-out time is at three."

She peered at him. "That isn't what I asked."

He sighed. "I'd like to get on the road before two if we can. I have to be somewhere at six, back in DC."

"All right." She wasn't going to ask. He'd have to volunteer.

He took a breath and then jumped. "I'm going to a meeting."

She just looked at him, her expression calm and unsurprised. She reached out and twined her fingers through his, smiling a little. "Thanks," she murmured.

"For what?"

"For trusting me with that."

He shrugged. "Everyone knows."

"You've never acknowledged it."

"I didn't want to put anyone in the position of having to lie for me. Hotch, especially. But I need…" He hesitated, wondering how to put it. "I don't want to have secrets from you."

"I'm glad."

He turned and looked her right in the face. "Emily, I'm an addict."

She nodded. "I know."

"I've been sober for years."

"I know that, too. And I know you still struggle with it."

He dropped his eyes. "Yes. Sometimes. Part of recovery is accepting that you'll never beat it for good. Just for now." He stared down at their linked hands. "You deserve to hear this from me before we go any further together."

"Spencer. Look at me." He did. "I knew about your addiction when I got involved with you. You knew that I knew. If it was a dealbreaker for me, we wouldn't be here. I hoped that you'd talk about it at some point. Now you have. It's not an issue for me if it isn't one for you. I hope you know that I – I care about you," she said, lifting her hand to touch his hair.

He nodded. "I know."

"You'll always have my support. As to what that looks like, well – we'll just figure that out as we go along, okay?"

Reid swallowed hard, relieved for vague reasons that he didn't fully understand. "Okay."

She reached out and pulled his head down to her shoulder, putting her arms around him. "Thanks for the awesome birthday weekend," she murmured, one hand stroking his head. He felt her mouth move as she smiled. "Best boyfriend ever."

Reid hung on to her arm and let his eyes fall closed, his body relaxing. "I think you might be better for me than a meeting," he murmured.

She chuckled. "Thanks. But you're still going."

* * *

_But she couldn't quite bring herself to derail both their careers yet, not when she couldn't see the future. Despite what he thought, it wasn't him she doubted, it was herself. She'd never been able to make a go of it with the other men she'd been involved with, why should it be any different with Spencer? The idea of it ending made her stomach tie itself into knots. She was terrified of losing him, but that didn't mean she didn't secretly believe it was inevitable._

_-How to Fight Loneliness, Chapter 7_

_

* * *

_

_six weeks later_

_

* * *

_

The UNSUB was cornered. And he didn't like it, one bit. They'd profiled that if he were cornered, he'd go on the offensive and try to shoot his way out, but he'd left them no choice.

Reid was on the guy's left flank with one of the SWAT officers. Hotch, Emily and Morgan were directly in front of him. Rossi and JJ were on the guy's other side. "Give it up, Andrews. You've got no way out," Hotch said.

Andrews, a family annihilator who'd graduated to spree shooting instead of committing suicide as was the norm for such offenders, looked like a trapped animal. His eyes rolled in their sockets, he clutched the machine pistol in his hands like it was his last tether to the world, which it might very well have been. Reid watched the twitching in his limbs as his brain gave contradictory commands to run, fight, give up, die, shoot, lie down, surrender.

"Put the gun down NOW," Hotch roared.

Andrews bared his teeth and roared back, then his hand shot out and grabbed the first thing it touched, a heavy glass ashtray. He hurled it toward them; it struck Emily in the head and she went down like a ton of bricks. Reid made himself stay focused on Andrews when his whole body was shouting at him to go to her.

The motion made Andrews take one hand off his gun, though, and distracted him enough that Morgan seized the opportunity and dove at his knees, bringing him crashing to the ground. Rossi and Hotch were both on him immediately.

They had it under control. Reid dashed to Emily's side. JJ was already there, calling for a medic. Reid knelt next to her, the mantra he'd had to develop running through his head: _concern for a friend, concern for a friend, concern for a friend…_ He couldn't let JJ or anyone else see that his concern was not for a friend but for the woman that he was more sure each day that he loved, although that sentiment had not yet been voiced by either of them. He schooled his expression and only let himself put his hand on her shoulder. That was something he would have done before. "Emily?" he said. "Emily, can you hear me?" She was just lying there, stunned. He exchanged a concerned glance with JJ.

Andrews was being hauled out of the room and a paramedic was coming in. "Wha?" Emily murmured, her head moving.

"Take it easy, you got hit on the head. Again," he chided her as she came around.

She lifted one hand to her forehead. "Ow."

JJ was looking around the room, distracted. "JJ, I got this," Reid said. "Go deal with the press, they're probably here by now." She nodded and stood up, heading for the front door.

Reid kept his cool as Emily sat up and was helped to the ambulance outside. For once, she didn't argue when the paramedics informed her that she was going to the hospital. "They taking her in?" Hotch said, approaching him as they stood outside.

"Yeah. She might need stitches, plus possible concussion."

"Are you going with her?"

Reid was relieved Hotch had asked, it would spare him having to come up with some tortured reason why he ought to. "Sure, I can."

"Okay, call me from the hospital."

He nodded and climbed into the back of the ambulance, where Emily was sitting on the gurney. The paramedic was taking her blood pressure as the bus pulled away from the curb and headed off down the street. Reid let out a big breath and hugged her. She hugged him back with one arm. "I'm okay," she said.

"What is it about your head that makes it so attractive to hard objects?" he said, pulling back and gingerly touching the gash on her forehead.

She hissed in pain. Reid winced and pulled his fingers away. "I've got a thick skull."

"Good thing."

She smiled at him, taking his hand. "I was glad to see you first when I woke up," she whispered.

The paramedic was eyeing them. "Are you two on the down-low?" she asked.

Reid frowned. "What's that…"

"Yes, we are," Emily said, cutting him off. "We'd appreciate your discretion."

"I didn't see a thing," the paramedic said, winking at them.

"You ought to lie down," he said. Emily nodded and let him help her ease herself down on the gurney. He leaned over her and smoothed her hair back, his throat working. It wasn't the first time he'd seen her in danger since their relationship had changed, but it was the first time he'd seen her actually injured. She looked up at him, her fingers playing with his sleeve. "I hate this," he whispered.

"It's okay."

"It's not okay. I can't let anybody see how I feel. You know how hard it was to act casual when I saw you fall down?"

"I'm sorry."

"Don't apologize, it isn't your fault. But we should tell the team that we're seeing each other. This is crazy, trying to keep it – on the down low, was that the term?"

"No, we can't. Hotch would have a fit."

"He might not."

"He would. They'd make one of us transfer."

"We don't know that."

"We do!" she said, starting to sit up again. Reid pushed her back down, gently. She sighed and relaxed. "We can't tell yet. It's too soon. We've only been dating six weeks. What if…"

"What? What if we break up?"

"We have to be realistic. It's too soon to take that step."

He nodded. "I know. It's just…" He trailed off, not knowing how much to say. _It's just that I'm in love with you and I can't tell you yet because I'm afraid it'll scare you off, and you're already hedging your bets about committing to us having a relationship. You don't want to tell the team, that's okay for now, but will you ever want to tell them? Are you just going to be waiting for us to break up? You're the one who said you felt more connected to me than to anybody you'd ever dated before and yet what am I supposed to think? Is it only okay to date me in secret? Are you ashamed? Would you be embarrassed for other people to know that you're taking nerdy old Dr. Reid to bed with you?_"It's just frustrating," he finished, lamely.

"Hey," she said, lifting her hand to his cheek. "This isn't about you. I'm just not ready to shout it from the housetops, okay?"

He nodded. "Okay." He grasped her fingers, turned his head and kissed her palm. She smiled and closed her eyes. The discussion seemed to be over, for now. He had a feeling they'd be having it again…and again.

* * *

_one month later_

_

* * *

_

Reid wasn't accustomed to being at a loss for words, but tonight as he sat at his desk, a blank sheet of paper mocking him, he couldn't think of what to say.

He picked up his fountain pen (his mother liked it when he wrote with a fountain pen, she said it lent an elegance to the penmanship) and just started in.

_Dear Mom,_

__

I just got back from visiting Adam Jackson again. I keep trying, but it's so frustrating to feel like I'm not making any headway. No progress this trip, either. At what point should I give up? My friends tell me that I have to accept that there are some people I can't save, but I can't abandon Adam, not yet.

Actually, it isn't my friends who tell me that, but one particular friend. I know I usually tell you everything, Mom, but there's something I haven't told you about yet. I didn't know if I should tell you, or how to put it, but it's becoming too important and I can't keep it from you anymore.

_I'm seeing someone. Her name is Emily Prentiss. She's one of my teammates at the BAU. I've known her for years, but a few months ago something happened, I'm still not sure how or what changed, but…well, she's my girlfriend now. It's been two months and it's going very well. She's amazing. She's smart and strong and beautiful and funny. I hope you can meet her sometime. I'm sorry I haven't told you about her before now. Maybe part of me wanted to keep it for myself. But she's become such an important part of my life, it felt strange not to talk about her in my letters._

He paused and put the pen down. Was that the reason he hadn't told her? Or was it something else?

As if on cue, his phone rang. He knew it would be Emily. They phoned each other every night before bed, whoever went to bed first making the call. Usually it was him; Emily was an inveterate night owl and was often up past one a.m. reading or watching TV. He answered. "Hi."

"Hey. What are you doing?"

"Writing to my mom."

"Do you still do that every day?"

"Not every single day, not anymore. Many days, though. Eighteen out of the last twenty-eight."

"I can't imagine finding something new to tell my mother that often."

"It's different with my mother. She gets so little outside contact that everything, even where I had breakfast or that I bought a new shirt, is interesting to her. It's the only way she can feel like part of my life." He paused. "I'm writing to her about you."

"Are you?" she said. He could hear her smiling.

"I hope you're not mad that I haven't before."

"No. I have a six-month rule with my mother about guys I date. If I'm still with them after six months, I tell her."

"So, she doesn't know about me yet."

She hesitated. "No, she knows. I told her about you when we got back from my birthday weekend."

Reid smiled, his face warming up. "I feel so special."

"You are special." She let that lie there for a moment. "It is a little interesting that the same man who keeps pushing to tell our teammates about us hasn't even told his own mother."

Reid sighed. "That is so not the same thing. We don't have to be around my mother every day and hiding it. And I don't think I'm up for another round of that argument tonight."

"Fair enough. Spencer…it doesn't upset me, but obviously you feel conflicted about the fact that you haven't told her about me. That tells me that normally, you would have."

"Normally, I tell her everything."

"So why didn't you?"

"I'm not sure. I just wrote in the letter that I didn't because I wanted to keep it for myself, but I don't know if that's the whole story."

"How has she reacted to you dating in the past?"

"I've never been specific about it. She does have this idea that women might take advantage of me, or only want me for my earning potential."

Emily snorted laughter. "In the FBI? Unless you're the Director, it isn't exactly the career path to wealth and riches."

"My mother is convinced that any day now I'll have had my fill of chasing criminals and go join a think tank somewhere and be paid extravagantly just for sitting and being brilliant. Her words, not mine."

"You could be, you know."

"That doesn't interest me."

"I know it doesn't. That's one of the reasons why you're special."

"That's the other thing. She doesn't think most women would 'appreciate' me," he said, putting verbal air quotes around the word. "That's not unique to me. Lots of mothers think that no woman is good enough for their son."

"I appreciate you."

"Your appreciation is appreciated," he said, smiling. "Anyway, I think she might be inclined to be suspicious of the motives of a woman that I date. I guess I just don't want her thinking unflattering thoughts about you before she's met you."

"That's not why."

He blinked. "It isn't?"

"No. You don't want her questioning my motives because you're still questioning them yourself and you don't want her to give you any validation, even if you know she's not rational."

Reid sighed. "Dating a profiler has its drawbacks."

"Tell me about it. You still wonder why I'm with you, don't you?"

"I can't help it."

"Is it so hard to believe? What makes you keep questioning?"

"Years of experience with women who _don't_ want to be with me."

"I like to think that I just have more refined tastes than the rank and file."

"So I'm like a German expressionist art film, huh?"

Emily laughed, an unrestrained peal like bells ringing. "It's stuff like that. And a million other things that I can't begin to list." Her voice grew serious. "It makes me kick myself that I wasted so much time being your friend and colleague. I could have been feeling like this for years."

"Feeling like what?"

"Respected. Challenged. Supported. Equal. Not to mention multiorgasmic."

Reid grinned. "On occasion."

"You're smiling, aren't you?"

"Yes."

She was quiet for a moment. "That smile is joy to me, Spencer."

Reid didn't know what to say. "Em, I…I wish I had your way with words."

"You do all right." He heard her sigh. "I kinda hoped you might come by tonight."

"Thought about it, but I'm beat. It was rough with Amanda this time."

"I'm sorry." She wouldn't ask for details. She knew he was private about his efforts to help Adam. "Well…I'll let you get back to your letter."

"I could come over now," he said, suddenly feeling like that was an awesome idea.

"I'm going to bed," she said, yawning. "I'd say come on over but I'm pretty bushed myself."

"We could just cuddle."

"Yeah, like that ever works. You just want to put off writing that letter. Get back to it. You'll feel better when you've told her everything."

"Emily, wait. What did your mother say when you told her you were seeing me?"

"Oh. Well, after I reminded her which one you were, the first thing she asked about was your age."

"Of course."

"I gave her the whole child-prodigy speech. She was impressed by your doctorates."

"They're handy like that."

"She said she thought you were handsome when she met you. Skinny, but handsome, were her exact words. Then she asked me the usual questions, how, when, why, blah blah. She asked how it was going."

"And?"

"I told her you were an animal in the sack."

"What?"

"I'm kidding, Spencer. And I'm going to bed. I'll see you at work, okay?"

"Okay. Night, Em."

"Night." She hung up.

Reid refocused on the letter, thought for a moment, then picked up his pen and continued.

_I know you'd tell me to be careful, Mom. But this is different. The things about me that have made life hard, the things that set me apart? Those are the things about me that Emily values. She doesn't look at me and see how I could benefit her, or how I'm different. She sees a person that she wants to spend time with. It feels good. I feel good. I feel happy with her. I just hope we can make it._

_

* * *

_

Reid would not have admitted it, but he was afraid of his general contractor.

His name was Roland Jennings. "Call me Rollie," he'd said at their first meeting, shaking Reid's hand with a grip like a blood-pressure cuff. He was stereotypically large and brawny, but Reid knew that he had three degrees, one in architecture, one in classical studies and one in historical restoration and preservation. After carefully combing through all the candidates, Rollie was the one he and Morgan had picked to oversee the renovation of the former library, soon to be house, currently disaster area.

Rollie was intimidating. He had a crew of big burly men who he bossed around, and Reid had seen him send tough, arrogant subcontractors scurrying for cover and hiding their faces in shame. He was pretty sure that Rollie had once made the drywall guy cry. That was why Reid tried to bring Morgan with him when he went to the site to check on progress. For backup.

Except today, Morgan wasn't available, and Reid couldn't put it off. Rollie needed him to "look at some stuff." Rollie was not only the general contractor, he was the architect who'd drawn up the plans for the renovation. He was the god of this project, more or less, and most of the time Reid felt like just the guy who wrote the checks.

Money had never been much of a concern for Reid when he hadn't had any. He just paid his rent and his bills, bought clothes and food when required, and sent a check to Bennington every month. He was contributing to a retirement plan along with the FBI's standard pension plan and that was about as much thought as he put into it. But when his father had given him that rather large sum, which he'd learned fell under some obscure IRS exemption and was therefore tax-free, suddenly he had Money Issues. So he'd gone to Garcia. Garcia was a genius with money. Everyone on the team, hell, everyone in the _building_ went to her for advice on setting up trusts and money markets and God knew what else. He happened to know that if she ever decided to give up her job, she could more than support herself as a day trader.

"Honey, you leave it to me," she'd said. She'd whipped the entire amount into some kind of high-yield interest-bearing account that was totally without risk. When he'd told her about his plans for the house, she had clapped her hands in excitement. "What's the contractor's estimate for the renovation?" she'd asked.

"Three hundred thousand," he said, feeling like he was about to throw up. Such a sum was almost incomprehensible to him. He'd only paid forty thousand for the building itself and that had felt like opening his femoral artery. He could have had the building made livable for a fraction of that cost, but he didn't want that. He wanted it restored, as much as possible, and he wanted some architectural integrity, not to mention quality work and some custom details. That was expensive.

Whenever he started feeling panicky about the expense, he'd hear this little voice in his head. _You're not just doing this for you._

He was trying not to listen. It was far, _far_ too soon to be thinking about this house as being not just for him, but for Emily, too. They'd only been dating for three months. Emily stubbornly refused to tell their teammates about their relationship, which only showed that she still wasn't sure this was something that could last. They hadn't even said 'I love you' yet, although Reid knew that he did love her and was pretty sure she felt the same way about him. But that didn't stop his brain from wandering the paths and inspecting the scenery up ahead to see if he liked the view.

Reid had paid Rollie the up-front fee, set aside the balance of the project budget (knowing full well it would end up costing more, it always did, according to Morgan) and gave the rest to Garcia to do with as she pleased. Just the day before, she'd showed him his balance sheets. You could have knocked him over with a feather when he'd realized that in the short time she'd had control of the funds, she'd increased the value of the accounts by twenty-five percent. She'd made him back the purchase price of the library already. "Gimme a few more months, you'll be getting this renovation for free," she'd said, grinning in delight.

He pulled up to the curb, parked his car and steeled himself. The worksite was starting to look like a demilitarized zone. What there had been of a yard had been demolished by the comings and goings of trucks. The exterior looked largely the same; the work going on was inside at the moment.

Reid got out of the car and headed up the walk. Rollie appeared as he approached. "Dr. Reid, glad you're here," he said. "We gotta talk about this tile."

"Tile?"

"Right. The original specs called for subway tile in the foyer, hexagonal on the floor, right?"

"Yes."

"Well, listen to this," Rollie said, getting an excited look on his face that Reid had come to fear, as it always came with dollar signs. "I found a guy who specializes in period-accurate mosaic tile layouts. We could do a whole tile pattern in here that would be very Craftsman and very appropriate for the architecture. It'd be in muted earth tones, one-inch hex, it'd look fantastic. What do you think?"

"Um…I don't know…"

"Here, look at this," Rollie said, showing him some printouts of what Reid assumed were other examples of the artist's work.

"Damn," Reid said. "That looks great."

"It would really make this entryway."

Reid sighed. "How much is this going to cost me?"

"That's the best part! It's actually going to be cheaper! This artist uses reclaimed tile from demolition salvage! He'll do the layout in his shop onto mesh backing and ship us the pieces! It'll take less time to install than the subway tiles, and if we're doing this on the floor we should just extend the wainscoting from the hallway in here, which'll be cheaper than the tile would have been."

"What's the catch?" This was a question Reid had quickly learned to ask.

"There isn't one, not on this project. This is a win-win as far as I'm concerned. The only sticking point is if you're married to that subway tile floor."

"No, I like this. All right, do it."

"Great!" Rollie clapped Reid on the shoulder. "C'mon, you're gonna want to see how the subfloors are coming. Now, the load bearing walls have to be shored up and I gotta replace an I-beam downstairs, but…"

Rollie's voice faded as he walked back into the house. Reid lingered in the foyer, a mess of ancient, peeling paint and old, boarded-over paneling right now, his eyes seeing what it would look like when it was done.

_It's going to be so beautiful, Em. I hope you like it._


	7. Chapter 7

"_It's never worked out with any man I've ever tried to get serious with," she said – and the minute it was out of her mouth, the obvious reason for that bloomed in her mind. "But…I think the reason it didn't is because…" She let out a shuddering sigh. "They weren't you." Her voice cracked a little. "Spencer…" She ran her thumb over his lips. "I love you. I'm in love with you. I should have told you ages ago."_

__

She saw something behind his eyes break and come crumbling down. "I love you too, Em," he said. "I'm crazy about you and I'm sorry you had to say it first."

_-How to Fight Loneliness, Chapter 7_

_

* * *

_

_one month later_

_

* * *

_

Neither of them were sleeping. They were in bed, they were quiet, but they weren't sleeping.

Reid was spooned up close behind her, both arms wrapped around her, his face nestled down against her hair. Her arms were in turn wrapped around his, her hands holding onto his forearms where they lay across her chest and stomach. If he could have held her tighter, he would have done it.

He felt her chest expand and contract in a deep sigh. "Say it again," she whispered.

He moved his mouth close to her ear. "I love you." He saw her face flex as she smiled. "I've wanted to say it so many times."

"Me, too."

"What stopped us?"

"I don't know. I know I've had my moments when I've said to myself, slow down, Emily. It isn't supposed to happen this fast. You can't be getting this serious about him yet. It's too soon. I guess I thought if I didn't say it, it wouldn't be real. It wouldn't be true." She loosened herself from his grasp and turned over to face him. "But it is true. It's been true for a long time." She put her hand on his face. "I fell in love with you when you kissed me in that observatory, and as much as I've tried to put the brakes on, I've loved you ever since, more every day."

He looked at her face, amazed. "I think I must have always been in love with you," he said. "I can't remember when it happened."

Emily grinned. "So we're both just chicken for holding out this long."

"Or we're cautious, measured and thoughtful."

"No. I think we're chicken."

He nodded. "Yep. Chicken."

She snuggled close. "It feels good just to be able to tell you that I love you."

"Feels good to hear it."

"Well, I'm going to say it a lot more from now on. Count on it."

"Okay, I will."

She tilted her head back so she could meet his eyes. "You know it's four months to the day since the first time we slept together?" she said.

"I did know that, actually. And since that night we've had sex sixty-two times."

She laughed out loud. "You've been keeping count?"

"I can't help it."

"Do you count that time you stroked me off in the kitchen? And that time I did the same to you in the car?"

"Yep. If somebody had an orgasm, it counts."

"Fair enough." She slid closer and kissed the tip of his nose. "I love you," she repeated, in a near-whisper. "I love your face and your body and your crazy brain and you'll have to excuse me if I get a little mushy right now."

"I won't tell anyone." The truth was, her mushiness was nothing to what was going through his own head, so he could hardly throw stones.

She laughed and hugged him again. "I guess we ought to be able to get mushy in the privacy of our own bed, huh?"

He held her tight, fixating on one word. "Is this _our_ bed?"

"Well…I guess I've started thinking of it as ours. We're here most of the time."

"I wonder why that is."

"Because all you have to eat at your place is coffee and Twinkies."

They laughed quietly together in Emily's…in _their_ bed. Reid kissed her forehead. "Can I say it again?"

"You can say it as many times as you like."

"I don't know, that could be a lot."

"Say it again."

"I love you." He tilted her face back up toward his. "I've never said that to anyone before. And no one's ever said it to me."

She was quiet for a moment. "That makes me sad," she finally said.

"It does?"

"You deserve to be loved. You're more deserving of love than most of the guys I've dated, that's for sure."

"Then I guess it's a good thing I _am_ loved. Right?"

She smiled, nodding. "Yes, you are." She kissed him deeply, her hands running up and down his back. Reid pulled her tight against him, her nude body pressed against his from toes to chest, and kissed back. She slipped a hand between them and stroked him. The sound of their breathing, deeper and harder now, filled the dim bedroom. Reid kissed his way down her chest until he could latch on to her breast. Emily mewled a little, her other hand on the back of his head. She pushed him over onto his back, her hands suddenly urgent, and mounted him in one swift motion. Reid let out a surprised, half-choked groan and seized her hips in his hand. She braced herself on his chest and rode him, her hips moving in tantalizing circles and arcs. "Oh god," she gasped.

Reid moved with her as best he could, transfixed by her breasts swaying above him. He slid his hands up her torso and cupped them; she put her hands over his, her head thrown back and her hair streaming down her back. "You're so beautiful," he managed to choke out. She laughed, low and throaty and sexy, and fell forward onto his chest to kiss him again. He wrapped his arms around her, planted his feet and worked upward into her, her hair falling in a curtain around their faces.

"Yeah, right there," she whispered, grinding back against him. She kissed him again, drawing his face up toward hers. "Baby…tell me what you want," she said. She kept trying to get him to be more vocal in bed. He was giving it the old college try, as they say, and as stupid as he'd felt at first it was starting to be easier.

"I want to make you come," he said. "But not like this."

She smiled. "Oooh, that sounds promising," she purred, sucking on the side of his neck. He eased her off him and onto the bed. He turned on his side and kissed her roughly, arousal robbing him of the ability to be subtle. She liked it when he got frantic, when he showed her how much he wanted her; she responded eagerly, her lips grabbing back at his. He slid down her body and hooked her legs over his shoulders. "Oh, _fuck,_" she groaned as he went to work on her with his tongue and lips. Her feet flexed against his back and she pressed herself closer to him, quivering all over, her hands clutching the sheets. He loved this. It was so intimate, even more so than being inside her, the clean taste of her like bread and salt; he was undone by the erotic, helpless sounds she made, they made him feel powerful. She sucked in quick little breaths, one hand tangling in his hair, and came with a throaty cry. He moved quickly back up her body and kissed the end of the cry from her lips, her arms grabbing at him as she kissed back.

"Turn over," he whispered. She flipped to her stomach; he pulled her to her knees and entered her from behind. He knew her rhythms by now, if he could keep her at this level of arousal he might be able to get her off again, and he chose this position so she wouldn't have her legs spread for too long because she found that uncomfortable after a little while. Emily grabbed the headboard, her graceful back arching, her hair now an inky torrent down her shoulders. He ran his hands up and down her sides as they moved together, finding the pace, easy at first until her body began to ramp up again. Reid's own arousal had never flagged, and as her movements became more urgent he let himself get carried away by it, let the need fill his veins and cloud his reason. He slipped one hand beneath her to stroke her, wanting her to go first and pull him over the edge. With a harsh gasp and a yell she went off again, clenching around him, the waves of her pleasure tipping him into his own orgasm. He fought off the impulse to tamp down because she liked him to be freer; he let himself voice the cry that rose in his throat, and she was right – it did feel good to let it out. He pressed deep inside her for a moment while it washed over him, one of her hands reaching back to stroke his chest as she watched him over her shoulder, smiling.

They both relaxed down onto the bed, twitching and panting, arms twining around each other. "Jesus," she breathed. "How'd you get so good at this?"

He sighed, running his hand over her hip. "I don't know. I can't explain it." He leaned close and rubbed his nose against hers. "I love you," he whispered. "That's the best I can come up with."

She smiled and cuddled close into his arms, pulling the sheets and blankets up around them. "I love you, too. But I'm rapidly losing consciousness."

"We have been pretty active tonight."

"No, active is when you go out dancing or enjoy a quick game of tennis. This is more like a triathlon." She yawned and kissed his cheek. "Night, honey." She rolled away to her other side, pulling the covers over her shoulders.

"Night, Em." Reid shifted to his back and fixed the pillow behind his head, smiling himself into slumber as the world drifted away.

* * *

_two weeks later_

_

* * *

_

Reid let himself in to Emily's apartment and went to the kitchen to unload his grocery bags. He tossed his coat onto a chair and put the kettle on.

"Spencer?" came a clogged, watery entreaty from upstairs.

"Yeah, it's me!" he called. "I'll be up in a minute."

"Okay." She sounded miserable. He gathered up his offerings and headed upstairs.

Emily was propped in bed surrounded by Kleenex, empty mugs and magazines. She was watching what looked like "World's Wildest Police Chases" on her bedroom TV. Her face was puffy and her nose was bright red. For a few days she'd been laid low by a nasty flu bug that had been going around. Yesterday she'd finally been persuaded by Hotch to take some time off lest they all get sick.

"Don't come too close. I don't want you to catch this."

"If I was going to get sick I would have already."

"You and your titanium immune system, I swear. You never get sick."

"Well, there was that little spell of anthrax I had a few years back."

"Which you recovered from. See? Titanium."

"I've got more Kleenex and some Ricola. And I brought you some egg drop soup," he said, handing her the carton.

By her face, you'd think he'd presented her with the Hope diamond. "Oh! Egg drop soup! How did you know?"

"Know what?"

"That when I'm sick this is all I ever want to eat?"

He smiled. "I didn't. But I'm the same way. It's hot and wet and chickeny, what else is there?" He sat down on the edge of the bed. "How are you feeling?"

"Awful. I hate being sick. My chest is sore from the coughing and I don't think I have any skin left on my nose." She took his hand. "You didn't have to come over. But I'm glad you did."

"I'm going to make you some tea. Be right back." He rose and kissed her forehead, gathered up empty mugs and headed back downstairs.

He was pondering what kind of tea to make when there was a knock on the door. He frowned. Who could that be?

"Who's that?" Emily called from upstairs.

"I'll get it," he called back. He went to the door and opened it.

Standing in the hall was Emily's mother, holding a gold box. For a moment, they just stared at each other. The ambassador recovered her composure first. "You must be Dr. Reid," she said, neutrally.

"Uh, yes," Reid stammered. He'd spent considerable time pondering what to say and how to act when he finally met Emily's mother as her boyfriend, but now she'd managed to catch him completely off guard. "Nice to see you, Ambassador. Come in," he said, standing aside. She gave him a slightly incredulous look as she passed. _I just invited her into her own daughter's apartment like I live here or something. Shit._ "I mean…that is, I didn't mean…"

"It's all right, Dr. Reid. I assume you spend a lot of time here. How long have you and Emily been dating?"

"Just over four months now."

She nodded. "Well, when Emily told me she was sick, I thought I'd stop by and see how she was, bring her a favorite treat."

"Chocolate?" Reid said, glancing at the box with a smile.

"No, marzipan."

"Emily doesn't like marzipan," he said without thinking.

Elizabeth's face went a little tight. "She most certainly does, it's her favorite."

He kicked himself. _Nice one, Reid._ The truth was that Emily pretended she liked marzipan in front of her mother. Once, when she'd been a teenager and they'd been in some European country, she and her mother had had a bad fight. Her mother had later apologized and brought her some marzipan as a gift. Emily had pretended to like it because she'd been touched by the gesture and wanted to preserve the peace. Unfortunately, her mother had kept giving her marzipan, convinced that it was a special favorite thing that they shared. Emily couldn't stand the stuff. Reid had eaten a lot of Emily's cast-off marzipan gifts from her mother over the years, brought into the office rather than be thrown away. "Of course, you're right. I was thinking of something else."

She looked suspicious, but let it go. "How is she feeling?"

"Not so great."

"Spencer?" Emily called from upstairs. "Who was at the door?"

"It's me, Emily," her mother said.

"Mom?" He heard rustling and then Emily appeared on the landing, pulling on her bathrobe. "Oh, you didn't have to come over here."

"I wanted to see how you were."

Emily came down the stairs. Reid went into the kitchen to rescue the whistling teakettle. "That's nice of you. What's this?" she said, nodding at the gold box.

"Well, it's marzipan."

"Great! Thanks!" Emily said, taking the box.

"Emily, what kind of tea do you want?" Reid asked, hoping to distract things.

"The orange one. With honey and lemon, please."

"Ambassador, would you like some tea?"

"No, thank you. You can call me Elizabeth, Dr. Reid."

He came back with Emily's tea, which she took with a grateful sigh, inhaling the vapor. "If you'll call me Spencer."

"Very well."

They stood there in an awkward triangle for a moment. "Come on in and sit down, Mom," Emily said, heading for the living room. Elizabeth took a seat in the wing chair. Emily curled up on the couch. Reid would have gone to the other chair but Emily caught his hand as he passed and pulled him down next to her. He sat, crossing one knee over the other, Emily keeping custody of his hand, her mug of tea clutched in the other.

"Dr. Reid seems to think you don't like marzipan, Emily," Elizabeth said.

"I was thinking of that almond brittle Garcia brought you from New Hope that you didn't like," Reid said, giving her a significant look.

Emily sighed. "He's right, Mom. I hate the stuff. No, Spencer, it's fine. I ought to be able to tell her the truth about candy, for crying out loud."

"Why on earth have you been pretending to like it all these years?" Elizabeth said. She didn't look angry, just surprised.

"Because! That first time I pretended because we'd just had that awful fight and I really wanted it to be okay, and then you kept giving it to me and it somehow became our special thing and I just didn't have the heart to tell you that I can't stand it."

Elizabeth was silent for a moment, then she laughed. "Oh, honey. We are tragic, aren't we?"

Emily chuckled. "It's such a stupid little thing."

"What _do_ you like? No, I think I'll ask Dr. Reid, I know he'll tell me the truth. Dr. Reid, what's Emily's favorite candy?"

"She likes anything chocolate, but her absolute favorite thing is a Cadbury Flake bar. They're a little hard to find, though."

Emily gaped at him. "I've never told you that! How do you know that?"

"Research," he said, smiling.

Elizabeth was looking from him to her and back again. "You two seem – settled."

Emily fidgeted a little, but kept hold of his hand. "Depends what you mean by that."

"Is this getting serious?"

He watched Emily's face. She looked at him, then smiled. "Yes. It is."

"Have you told your team?"

"Not yet. We plan to. Finding the right moment is a little tricky. We've had case after case, and then I got sick – we really should just bite the bullet," she said.

"Well," Elizabeth said, adjusting her jacket and the knife pleat in her slacks. "I'm sorry it took us this long to meet, Dr. Reid." He felt Emily stiffen a little at the implied criticism.

"I wasn't keeping him away from you on purpose, Mom."

"I never said you were."

"Why would you think I'd hide him?"

"Please don't put words in my mouth."

"I don't have to. You know I don't introduce you and Dad to my boyfriends until it's serious."

"But you told me you were dating Dr. Reid months ago. Why wait to let us meet him?"

"Because I didn't want you to judge him."

"Why would I do that?"

"Because I know the kind of man you like to see me with. I just didn't want to have to go into a big speech about why Spencer is the man _I_ want to be with."

Elizabeth sighed. "I just want you to be happy, Emily."

"That's easy to say. But your idea of what would make me happy hasn't always been accurate. I've found a man who_does_ make me happy and I guess I just didn't want to hear reasons why I shouldn't be with him."

"Even if I had such reasons, would it matter to you?"

Emily blinked, then looked over at him again. "No."

"Then why do you care what I think?"

Reid watched Emily's face. He was rather interested in the answer to that question himself. "I don't know," she said, quietly.

No one said anything for a long few moments. Emily's thumb was stroking across the back of his hand. Finally, Elizabeth uncrossed her legs. "Well, I best be going," she said. "I just wanted to see how you were, Emily."

They all stood up. "Thanks, Mom. I do appreciate it. And thanks for the marzipan," she said, smiling a little.

Elizabeth chuckled. "Next time it'll be chocolate."

"Spencer will eat the marzipan. He likes it."

Elizabeth turned to him. "It was nice to finally meet you, Spencer," she said, using his first name.

He refrained from pointing out that technically, they had met before. He knew what she meant. "Likewise, Elizabeth."

She hugged Emily over her protestations about flu bugs, then left. Emily seemed to shrink and wilt a little after the door closed, and Reid realized that she'd been unconsciously bucking herself up and throwing off the visible signs of sickness so as not to appear weak in front of her mother. It was weirdly reassuring to him that she didn't feel the need to put up a front like that for _him._ "Can I have some more tea?" she said in a small voice, holding out her empty mug.

"Sure." He took it and went to the stove. She shuffled back into the living room and laid down on the couch. He joined her there, setting the tea on the table. She shifted so her head was lying on his leg. He combed his fingers through her hair. "Emily?"

"Hmm?"

"Why would you be embarrassed by me?"

"Huh? I wouldn't."

"But you assume that other people would think you were."

She made a frustrated noise. "I can't even begin to wrap my brain around what that means. I'm not embarrassed by you."

"But that's what you meant when you said your mom would have…"

"Reid. Please. I can't deal with this right now."

"Is it because I'm not some tall handsome suit-wearing alpha male who could…"

"Spencer!" She sat up and turned toward him, looking annoyed. "Can we not? Please? My head is full of wet flannel. I don't know what you're getting at but I am not embarrassed of being with you. And you _are_ tall and handsome, and brilliant and sweet and brave, and I love you very much, now please be quiet." She flopped back to the couch, her head resuming its spot on his thigh.

He stroked her hair for a few minutes, feeling her relax. "You should go to bed," he murmured.

"I like my spot right now. Can I just stay here for a bit?"

He smiled. "As long as you want."


	8. Chapter 8

_He bent his head close to Emily's. "Em, do you want to go to your parents' house now, or wait until later?"_

__

She sniffed and lifted her head a little. "Now."

"Okay, let's go." She nodded, still clinging to him. He looked around at the team. "You guys should go ahead without me, I'll catch up." Everyone was nodding.

Rossi spoke up. "You stay with her, Reid. You two sit this one out, we'll manage." His eyes were sympathetic.

_-How to Fight Loneliness, Chapter 8_

_

* * *

_

_one month later_

_

* * *

_

Emily was almost too tired to walk. He had his arm around her and she was leaning heavily on him as they climbed the stairs to his second-floor apartment. He didn't wonder why she'd wanted to come here instead of to her place, where they spent eighty percent of their time together; his place was more neutral for her. Her own home would be more hazardous with family memories.

He felt pretty drained himself. It had been an eventful eight hours. After their abrupt and involuntary outing in front of their teammates, they'd immediately driven to the Prentiss family home in Baltimore, where they'd been greeted by Whirlwind Elizabeth, who was sublimating her grief into an intense desire to organize, arrange and keep everything under control. Emily had just wanted to be left alone and not think about things quite yet. She wasn't ready to answer questions about what kind of casket they should buy or what hymns her father would like played at the service.

At her insistence he had stayed glued to her side, even through conversations in which he felt like an intruder. He was meeting many of her family members for the first time. At least they were seeing him as a supportive and attentive boyfriend.

Emily's father had died in his sleep. The coroner hadn't been there yet, so he was still lying in bed where he'd been found. Emily had been shaking as she entered the room. He'd all but insisted that she go in alone, but she'd begged him to stay with her, so he had. He'd hung back while she went to the side of the bed and knelt there. In silence she had looked at her father's body, no words, no tears, just – looked.

After a few minutes, she'd gotten up and silently walked past him and out into the hall. He'd followed her to her own room, the one she'd occupied during vacations from college. Her high school diploma was still hanging on the wall, photos of herself with college friends tucked into the mirror, but other than that it was an ordinary room. She'd sat down on the bed, folding her legs under her, and let her head fall into her hands. He'd sat down facing her, and as soon as she saw him she reached out and buried herself in his arms, not crying, just trembling. He'd held her, saying nothing because there was nothing he could say.

Elizabeth had come in a few minutes later. "Emily, I'd like to talk to you about the service," she'd said. Reid tried to send her a clear "leave now please" signal with his eyes but it seemed like she didn't even see him. "There are decisions to be made, I still have calls to make…I thought you'd want to call your cousins yourself."

She'd finally forced him to speak with her persistence. "Elizabeth, please just give her some time, okay?" he said.

"These things can't really wait, Dr. Reid. Emily?"

He'd pulled away from her and started to rise, but Emily grasped at him, trying to hold him back. "I'll be right back," he'd whispered, kissing her forehead. She'd nodded and curled up on her bed, not even acknowledging her mother's presence.

He'd drawn Elizabeth into the hall, shutting the door behind him. "Elizabeth, you need to leave her alone for a little while. She's not ready to deal with the details. Nothing is that urgent."

"I can't just let it go," Elizabeth said, and he saw in her eyes the manic need to stay on top of things, because if she let the reins go slack, there might be a stampede. "Things need to be arranged."

"There are other people to help you with that. Emily's just lost her father. And you've just lost your husband. It's okay to rely on friends and family. I will take care of Emily. She's my only concern right now. I know that you have assistants and lawyers and trusted friends who can deal with whatever needs to be handled. You should look after yourself."

"He's right, Betsy," said a distinguished-looking gray-haired man, walking up to them. "Take a breath, will you? You're going to snap in two."

Elizabeth looked at him with a mixture of annoyance and affection. "Don't tell me how I am, Brian. I have everything under control."

"But you don't need to," said the man, who must be Emily's uncle Brian, Elizabeth's brother. "For once in your life, let it go."

Elizabeth seemed affected by this. He saw her chin tremble a little. "I suppose…I don't know, should I…" She trailed off and seemed lost.

"Why don't you go downstairs? Helen's here. Let her look after you." Reid's brain dredged up the name Helen as belonging to Elizabeth's best friend and college roommate.

She looked back at him. "You'll…look after Emily?"

"Of course. I'm sure she'll want to talk, but right now she needs some time."

Elizabeth nodded. "I'll be downstairs."

"Good girl," Brian said. Elizabeth headed off, looking a little unsteady. Brian watched her go, then turned back to Reid. "Don't believe we've met. Brian Hofstedter."

"Spencer Reid," he said, shaking Brian's hand.

"Oh, you're Emily's young man. We've been hearing about you. Nice to meet you. Wish the circumstances were better. How is she?"

"She's shut down a bit right now. She'll come around, but the last thing she needs is…" He glanced off in the direction of Elizabeth's departure.

Brian nodded. "That's Betsy's way. Stiff upper lip, take care of business. You and Emily work together?"

"Yes. We're on the same team at the BAU."

"Well, this is above and beyond the call of duty. You must be serious about her."

"I am."

Brian gave him an appraising glance, then a sharp nod. "Good man. Look after her, we'll handle what needs to be handled. She needn't worry about the damn hymns or the flowers or God knows what else Betsy's obsessing over, not unless she wants to. You thinking of staying here tonight?"

"Well, I at least have to stop back to the office. Emily may want to stay, but I suspect she'll want to go home."

"We'll all be here until the funeral, at least. I suspect you and Emily will be back tomorrow, then?"

"Probably."

Brian nodded. "We'll see you then." He started to walk away, then turned back. "I thought you'd be younger."

Reid frowned. "Pardon?"

"Betsy kept saying Emily was dating this younger man. To hear her talk you'd think you were barely out of your teens. You don't seem so very young to me."

Reid smiled. "Thanks, I think."

He'd gone back into the bedroom. He'd spent most of the afternoon sitting on her bed, propped up against the headboard, just holding her. She had eventually gone downstairs to join her family and talk about some of the details, but when he'd left for the BAU she'd come with him.

And now here they were, at his apartment. He was waiting for the Prentiss Lockdown to lift. By his reckoning it would happen soon.

"Are you hungry?" he asked as Emily sat down on the couch.

She shook her head. "I need a drink."

"Way ahead of you." He was at the fridge making her a gin and tonic. "Here."

"Bless you," she muttered, knocking half of the drink back in two swallows. "God damn," she said. She leaned back against the couch, her eyes closing. He sat down next to her. "I feel so – numb."

"It's shock."

"I know what it is," she said, an edge in her voice.

"All right."

She sighed and reached one hand over to his leg. "I'm sorry, I shouldn't take it out on you."

"Well, I'm handy."

She turned her head and opened her eyes to look at him. "Thank you. So much."

"For what?"

"For staying with me. For being there."

"I'm surprised you'd expect otherwise. Isn't that what people in relationships do for each other?"

"In theory. You'd be amazed how many people in relationships suddenly feel like those relationships aren't so serious when some real emotional demands are made of them."

"I guess I'm not like those people."

She smiled a little. "No. You're not. And just so you know, if something awful happened to you tomorrow, I'd be right there to help you through it."

"Thanks. I never thought you wouldn't be."

She stretched. "I'm exhausted."

"I'm sure you are."

"Do I have any pajamas here?"

"I don't think so. Just put on one of my t-shirts." He ran his hand over her leg in a chaste caress of comfort. "Why don't you go shower and get in bed? I'm going to call Hotch, see how the case is going."

She looked at him ruefully. "And maybe get yelled at?"

"Might as well get it over with."

"Okay. A shower sounds great. So does bed." She got up and headed into his bedroom.

Reid got out his cell phone, took a deep breath, and dialed.

"Hotchner."

"Hotch, it's Reid."

"How is Emily?"

"She's dealing. Her mother was herself to the nth degree. I expect we'll go back up to Baltimore tomorrow. I called to check on the case."

"Did you read the casefiles?"

"Yeah. Seem like a fetishist who's resorted to killing to obtain their integumentary items."

"That's what we thought. I don't think he'll be that hard to catch."

"Publicize that one of the graves of his victims is being exhumed and the body moved across country. He might try to get to it before the exhumation, and you've got him."

"That's a good idea. The family might not go for it but it's worth proposing it."

"Hotch…about me and Emily."

He heard Hotch sigh. "How long?"

"We've been seeing each other for five months."

"Well, that doesn't say much for the rest of our profiling skills."

Reid smiled. "We worked hard to hide it. We were going to tell you. We decided a month ago that we'd tell you and the team, but there never seemed to be a good moment and we kept putting it off."

"I admit, I had noticed that you both seemed – happier. I didn't make the connection, though."

"It's not like it's anything anyone would have predicted, least of all either of us." He steeled himself. "Hotch, about the team…"

"Reid, stop right there. What you tell me in confidence is between us. Officially, you and Prentiss are friends and co-workers. No one's sworn any affidavits or made any official declarations. Your personal lives are none of my business."

Relief flooded him. "You didn't seem so accommodating earlier."

"I was surprised. And Dave might have talked me down a little," he said. Reid could hear the wry smile on Hotch's face.

"Remind me to buy him a bottle of his favorite Scotch."

"But let me be clear. If it becomes a hindrance to either of you performing your jobs, I will have no choice but to make an issue out of it. Don't make me do that."

"We won't. We haven't so far, have we?"

"No. Keep it up." He paused. "Reid, I'm – happy for you. Both of you."

"Thanks." He hesitated. "Well, I better go. It's been a long day and it'll be another one tomorrow."

"Good luck. Take care of Emily. Everyone else will be worrying about a thousand different things. She'll need someone who's focused on her. I went through this when Haley's father died. She needs you to just step up and take care of things."

"I will. Thanks, Hotch. Goodnight."

"Goodnight, Reid."

He hung up. That had gone better than he'd dared to hope it would. The shower had shut off and he heard Emily rustling about in the bedroom. Reid got up and went into the kitchen to set up coffee in the percolator for the morning, sprinkling a little cinnamon on top of the grounds for some added flavor. That was a trick he'd picked up in college when they'd all stayed up very late studying, drinking really crappy coffee that you'd try anything to improve.

He went into the bedroom. Emily was curled on her side under the covers. He stripped to his boxers and climbed in with her. She turned over and snuggled close to him, one arm across his chest. He put his arms around her and kissed her forehead. "What'd Hotch say?" she mumbled.

"Not a lot, surprisingly. Sounds like he's favoring a don't-ask-don't-tell policy about us dating." She nodded, then turned her head and began to kiss his neck, her hand wandering lower over his boxers. "Emily, we don't have to do anything. You're exhausted."

"I want to," she murmured against the skin of his throat. "I need you."

"Em…" he began, although his body was responding in spite of himself.

"Please," she whispered, crawling up over him and straddling his hips. "Make it go away for a little while," she said, her voice cracking.

Reid put his arms around her while she kept kissing him, but he felt strange about it. Was this what she needed right now? Shouldn't she try to get some sleep?

_No, idiot. She's telling you what she needs and that's sex with you, and you're going to say no…why?_

He looked up into her face. "You sure?" he whispered. She nodded. "All right," he murmured, and pulled her back down into a deep, hard kiss. She yanked on his shoulders; he got the hint and rolled them over. She didn't seem to want a lot of foreplay or a slow and sensual session of lovemaking. She slipped off her panties and pulled his boxers down. "Em…wait a sec…"

"Spencer," she panted. "Stop talking and fuck me."

He nodded. "Okay, if that's what you want." It clearly was, she was pulling at his hips and shimmying around underneath him. She reached between them and grabbed his erection. He thrust forward into her and settled between her legs. She hung onto his shoulders and urged him to go faster, wrapping her legs around his hips and bucking against him.

Reid knew that he had to get her off. Of all times, this time he really had to. She needed an emotional release and this could catalyze it, jolt her out of her Lockdown. It wouldn't be easy if it was this quick. Usually they had more time. With a few memorable exceptions, fast sex for them had meant sex with an epilogue. Which didn't seem to bother her, as long as the epilogue actually happened. But tonight, this was his job, and he'd do it. He got to his knees so he could lift her hips into his lap and change the angle of their bodies against each other. She clutched at him and rocked her pelvis hard into his. He reached down and pressed his thumb against her, rubbing in a circle, and within a few more thrusts she came with a yell. Reid was so concerned about it that he lost his erection without having come himself, but that was okay.

Her cry turned into a sob, then into deep, wracking sobs drug up from the bottom of her lungs, ragged and abused. He lay down at her side and pulled her into his arms. She grabbed at him like a life preserver, shaking, and released her grief against his chest.

For an hour, they just lay there. Reid didn't say anything. There was nothing he could say that would mitigate this for her. He just held her tight and let her cry, her tears wetting the t-shirt he was still wearing. He handed her Kleenex after Kleenex from the box on the night table for her to blow her nose and wipe her eyes. Gradually, she calmed. He shifted onto his back and drew her head and shoulders onto his chest. He stroked her back and rubbed her neck while her chest hitched in the aftermath of her outburst.

After a long time, she lifted her head and met his eyes. "God, that sucked."

He smoothed her tangled hair back. "You needed it."

She fell in a heap against his chest again. "I feel like I've been beat up."

"You need to get some sleep."

"Yeah." She shifted against him, not moving away, just getting more comfortable. "Are you okay like this? I don't want to move from this spot."

"Don't worry about me."

She nodded, already drifting away, one leg and one arm tossed over him. He drew the covers up around them.

"Spencer?" she murmured, half-asleep.

"Hmmm?"

"Thanks."

He kissed the top of her head. "No thanks necessary."

* * *

Emily was watching him pack up his casefiles and his laptop. "You don't have to come, you know."

He looked up at her. "What?"

"You could still join the team in Syracuse. I'm okay here."

Reid gave her a look. "If you think I'm going to leave you here by yourself at a time like this, you're crazy."

"I won't be alone, I've got my family. My mother will probably have gotten over her little fit of in-controllishness by now."

He shifted, another thought occurring. "Emily, are you saying you don't _want_ me to stay with you? If that's the case, then I'll go."

"No!" she said, her eyes widening. "No, that's not it at all! I just don't want you to feel obligated."

He stepped closer. "Why not?"

"Well…"

"Being obligated isn't the worst thing ever." He put his hands on her hips. Hers went to his chest. "I love you, Emily."

"I love you, too," she whispered, her eyes lowered.

"Which means I'm obligated to you. But not in a bad way. I _want_ to stay with you. It's my job to support you through this. But more than that – I feel so lucky that I'm the one you want with you now. If we're serious about each other, that comes with some obligation. I like being obligated to you."

She looked up at him. "Who are you?" she murmured. "Who are you, and where's that awkward guy who Morgan had to practically shove at women?"

"Oh…he's still here. He's just employing that old 'fake it till you make it' strategy."

"I think you've made it, Dr. Reid." She kissed him thoroughly. "We should probably stay overnight at the house tonight, since the service is in the morning. And I guess there's a gathering at my parents' house tonight, since there's no viewing. We should bring nicer clothes to change into for that, plus funeral clothes, so we'll have to stop off at my place before we head up."

"Okay. How nice are we talking about? Do I need a suit for tonight, too?"

"Yeah, probably. That charcoal gray one?" She pulled away and went into his bedroom. He followed along and watched her going through his closet. She pulled out the suit in question. "With that dark red shirt underneath. You look so good in red, you ought to wear it more." She found the shirt she wanted while Reid watched, bemused.

"Going to pick out my tie, too?"

"Can I?" she said, going to his tie rack. "Here, this one." She pulled out a tie that matched the shirt almost exactly.

Reid got out a suitbag and tucked the clothes into it, going to the closet for his black suit as well. "Done playing dress-up doll with me?"

"Oh…I'm sorry," she said, deflating. "That's so obnoxious-girlfriend."

He shrugged. "I don't mind."

"You know how rare it is for a man to have a closet full of cool, colorful clothes that he's actually willing to wear? Most guys are terrified of color or patterns or anything remotely nonconformist. Can you blame me for wanting to dress you up?" She sat down on the still-unmade bed. "You don't have to stick to my side all day, though. Bring your laptop and your casefiles, maybe the team could use your input. I'll have things to do and I need to spend some time with my mother."

He nodded. "Of course."

"I'll set you up in the downstairs study, nobody ever goes in there. Just…check in every hour or so, okay?" She gave him a wavery smile.

He reached across the bed and squeezed her hand. "You just tell me what you need and I'll do it."

When they arrived at the Prentiss home, Elizabeth greeted them at the door. She looked awful. It was clear she'd been crying. Emily seemed reassured by this, and Reid knew why. It meant that her mother was dealing with her loss instead of burying herself in minutiae to escape it. She hugged Emily hard, both of them crying a little bit, and shook his hand, seeming genuinely glad to see him.

But then, there was family business, and Reid set up camp in the downstairs study Emily had mentioned. He got hooked up with Garcia back at Quantico and spent most of the morning going over the evidence of the team's case. He spoke to Morgan and Rossi over webcam, helped them with the geographical profile, and watched a live feed of one of the UNSUB's surviving victims giving a statement. Once an hour, he excused himself and went to find Emily. The first two times he found her with family. She met his eyes and gave him a nod and a wave. _I'm okay._ He went back to work. The third time, just after noon, he found her sitting at a table drinking coffee with two older women. She beckoned him over. "I don't think you've met my boyfriend, Dr. Spencer Reid," she said to her companions.

"Oh my, we've heard about you," said one of them.

"Spencer, this is my great-aunt Dorothy Prentiss, and this is Jane Wooster, an old friend of the family."

"Nice to meet you," he said, shaking their hands.

Emily looked up at him. "We've just been reminiscing," she said. She blinked at him fast, her eyes slightly widened._Get me out of here._

"I hate to steal her away, but I was going to take her out for lunch," he said.

"Oh, no, that's fine, dear. You go ahead," said Jane Wooster. "You could use the fresh air, I'm sure," she said, and Reid could have sworn he saw her wink at Emily.

He took her hand and pulled her away, waving goodbye to great-aunt Dorothy and family friend Jane. "Thank God you showed up, I was getting ready to fake a heart attack," she muttered.

"Did you see that little wink good old Jane gave you? I think she thinks we're sneaking off to have sex."

"Is that option off the table?"

"Well, I was actually serious about lunch. I thought it'd do you good to get out of the house for a little while – unless you want to stay."

"No. Getting out is good. There's a great deli a few minutes away, let's go there."

"Okay." They climbed into his car and he followed her directions to the deli, a ramshackle little neighborhood dive that seemed out of place in the posh neighborhood where Emily's parents lived.

"I know it doesn't look like much," she said, noting his puzzled expression. "It's a local institution. Trust me."

They got sandwiches and sat in a booth by the window. "Wow," Reid said, after his first bite. "This is really good."

"Told you," she said, her own mouth full of sandwich.

"So how's it going at home?" he asked.

She swallowed. "All right." She put down her sandwich and looked off out the window. "I keep waiting for Dad to walk in, you know? I can't even…" Her eyes filled with tears and she shook her head, blinking. "There's just so many things I would ask him about. And all I can think about is that I wish he'd met you. I'm weirdly fixated on it. I wish I could go back in time one week and bring you up here so I could say to him, Dad, you've never liked a single one of my boyfriends, so here's the one you will like. And he would have. Liked you, I mean."

"Are you sure?" Reid said, dubious about that. By all accounts, Emily's father had been a hearty fraternity sort with a Phi Beta Kappa key from Harvard, the sort who valued family connections and old money. "I didn't think I was his type."

"I know how he seemed, how I talked about him. But he admired courage and self-sufficiency. He hated posers and artifice. No, he would have liked you. I'm sure of it." She heaved a shaky sigh. "He'd have said, finally, Emily. Finally you bring home a man who isn't a fool."

"He was proud of you, you know."

She glanced at him and then away again, quickly. "How do you know?"

"How could he not be?"

Emily didn't answer, just looked out the window. They finished their sandwiches in silence.

* * *

There was more activity at the house when they got back. More caterers and family members arriving. "I can't deal with this," she murmured as they approached the front door. "I just want to take a nap."

"Then take one."

"With you?" she asked.

"If you like."

She nodded. "Go on up to my bedroom, I'll be there in a minute."

Reid had earlier brought up their bags to Emily's old bedroom. He kicked off his shoes and looked at the photos stuck into the mirror. He'd heard Emily talk about her college friends. He wondered which one was Germany, which one was Kate, which one was Nora.

The door opened and Emily came in. "I just wanted to tell Mom I was going to grab a nap." She came to him and took both of his hands. "So was Jane entirely wrong with her little wink?" she asked.

Reid just slid one hand behind her head and kissed her, pulling her up close. She put her arms around him and kissed back. "You need this?" he whispered.

She shook her head. "No. I want this." She kissed him again, then pulled away and went to the bed. He watched as she tossed the throw pillows to the floor, then neatly folded down the covers. She came back to him, her face calm. "I always wanted to bring a man into this bed," she murmured, her fingers unbuttoning his shirt.

They undressed each other with slow deliberation, exchanging soft kisses, caressing bare skin as it was revealed until they were both nude. She led him to the bed and they slid beneath the covers where they made quiet love to each other, unhurried and easy, sighing out their releases and falling asleep wrapped up together.


	9. Chapter 9

The funeral of Robert Prentiss was held at the Cathedral of Mary our Queen, the seat of the Archbishop of Baltimore. Reid and Emily drove there in his car over Elizabeth's protests that they ought to ride with the family. "We will be, mother, just not in the same car," Emily said. Reid felt a little out of place in his ancient Volvo among all the Lexuses and Mercedeses and BMWs.

The family gathering last night hadn't been what he'd expected. A few cousins, some family friends, he'd thought. Oh, no. Nearly a hundred people had been there, crowding the house. Emily seemed to know everyone, and he'd shaken more hands than he cared to recall. By the end of the night, his nerves were worn raw by the sheer number of new people, but he was determined to keep it together for Emily's sake.

Now, Emily was silent and stiff. She'd barely spoken through breakfast, nor as they'd gotten ready in her old bedroom, nor in the car on the drive here. He kept glancing at her as he followed the line of family cars to the cathedral. "Are you okay?" he finally asked.

She nodded, tightly. He reached over and plucked her hand from where it rested on her leg. She gripped it back with panicky tightness, even though her face remained carefully composed.

There were crowds of people milling about outdoors despite the frigid temperatures. Reid put his arm around Emily and they hurried into the narthex. He was feeling particularly protective and caveman-like this morning, probably because he knew she was feeling vulnerable. Her arrival was noted, but no one approached. Her body language was sending a very clear _leave me alone_ message. Reid scanned the crowd, looking for Elizabeth or anyone else he knew, but spied a familiar face instead…make that faces. "Em," he murmured, nudging her and nodding.

Their team was standing in a group near the doors, all of them, including Garcia. "Oh," Emily said. "They didn't have to come. I didn't know they were back already."

"Hotch told me they were coming back this morning, but he didn't say they were going to come here." They walked over to the team and Emily let herself be hugged by JJ and Garcia. "This is a surprise," Reid said.

"We wanted to pay our respects," Hotch said.

"Thank you," Emily said, hanging on to Reid's hand. "It's nice to see some friendly faces." Everyone fell into an awkward silence. Reid saw eyes flicking to their joined hands and away again, quickly. No one seemed to know what to say.

"Okay, there's an elephant in the room," he finally said. "I know everything happened really suddenly and nobody got the chance to react to – this. To us."

"We've had a couple of days to get used to the idea," Rossi said, smirking.

"We were going to tell you," Emily said. "We just kept putting it off. We're sorry it came out like that."

"That's not important," Hotch said. "You should focus on your father and your family right now."

Emily nodded. "I will."

People were taking their seats. "We'd better go in," Reid said.

"We'll see you afterwards," Hotch said.

They left the team with a few more hugs and handshakes and walked to the front of the church. "Should I sit a few rows back?" Reid murmured. "I mean, do I belong up there with the immediate family?"

"Yes," Emily said, emphatically. "You belong next to me."

* * *

Reid was back to work on Friday. Emily had taken the rest of the week and would return on Monday. He'd offered to stay home with her, but she'd refused. "I just need to decompress," she said. "A little time to myself. But will you come over after work? I'd love to spend the weekend with you."

Work was a blessed relief. The funeral had been wrenching, and then he and Emily had gone to the graveside service at Arlington National Cemetery with the immediate family. Then home to her house, where they'd spent a quiet evening just talking. About her father, about her childhood, about his own parents. Serious talk, deep and personal, involving the telling of things that neither of them had ever shared before. There had been some tears, but there had also been laughter, and while he held her in his arms, the thought occurred to Reid for the first time: _I could spend the rest of my life with this woman._

In blatant violation of their rules, he had spent the night at her place. It had been cozy and domestic to make coffee in her kitchen, shower in her bathroom and get ready for work. She'd stayed in bed, snuggled into a cocoon of covers, and when he'd gone in to say good-bye she'd sent him off with a drowsy kiss and a sleepy "Have a good day. I love you." It wasn't a bad way to start the morning, all things considered.

At work, everyone was being aggressively normal. Even Garcia didn't so much as give him a wink or a knowing glance. Morgan, who he'd fully expected to give him the third degree immediately upon arrival, was sticking to his own work and only talking to him about cases. Reid breathed a sigh of relief, not having been looking forward to running the BAU gauntlet of questions and comments about his relationship with Emily.

Lunchtime rolled around, and Morgan appeared at his desk. "Okay, Reid. C'mon. Lunchtime."

"Uh…I think I'll just stay here. Not really hungry."

"Oh, no. No, you don't. I've been good all day but you and I are going to go get a burger or something."

"Why do I get the feeling it's not just the burger that's going to get grilled?" Reid grumbled.

"Come on, pretty boy. Not taking no."

Reid sighed and got up. He'd been ready for this, and honestly, he didn't mind talking to Morgan about Emily. He just didn't want to be hounded about it in the bullpen, and Morgan hadn't done that.

They drove into Stafford to a burger joint that Morgan liked, and within a few minutes they were seated in a booth with unhealthy food. "All right," Reid said. "Let me have it."

"How did it start, man? I've been trying to think of when it could have started, and I can't think of anything."

"You remember that custodial interview we did in Minnesota? Roy Niedermeier?"

"Oh yeah! What happened?"

"Well, I don't really know. We were in her hotel room talking about the profile, comparing notes, and then – suddenly we were kissing."

Morgan grinned. "You made your move, huh?"

"No, it wasn't like that. It just sort of happened."

"And so on?"

"No. Not that night. We just kissed."

"Aw, damn. So what happened when you got back here?"

Reid smiled. "Well, we did this stealth-flirting thing for a couple of weeks. Right under everyone's nose. None of you ever noticed."

Morgan shook his head. "I must be slipping."

"Eventually I asked her out on a real date. We went out, and it just went from there." Reid crossed his arms on the table. "Speaking of slipping, were you going to confess anytime soon?"

"Confess to what?"

"That you already knew about us before Tuesday."

Morgan gave him a wide-eyed look. "What are you talking about?"

"Come on, Morgan. Everyone was so surprised, except you. You were looking anywhere but at us. I've played poker with you enough to know your tells, man."

He sighed. "All right. Yeah, I knew."

"For how long?"

"I had my suspicions since Christmas. Just how you were acting, individually and toward each other. I got worried, because I thought I knew what was going on. I thought you had some kind of arrangement."

"Friends with benefits?"

"Something like that. Anyway, I know you and I know you don't do casual very well, and I wanted to make sure she knew that. If she was just having a little fun with you, I needed her to have been straight with you about that. So – I went and talked to her about it."

Reid's jaw dropped. "You confronted her about it?"

"Yeah, she said you'd be mad."

"When was this?"

"Um…about a month ago."

Reid narrowed his eyes. "Wait…what night?"

"It was a Tuesday. When I got there she seemed upset. She said you guys had had a fight about telling the team."

Reid shook his head, amazed. "All right, go on. What happened?"

"I told her what I just told you, and she told me she loved you."

"She – she did?" Reid felt absurdly choked up. If he was correct about which night this had been, she'd told him so herself later that night, but there was something about hearing that she'd said it to someone else.

Morgan nodded. "I could tell she meant it. Of course then I felt like a giant asshole."

"Gee, I can't imagine why."

"But I was relieved. I was glad. Surprised, but glad. Cause you deserve it, kid. Both of you do."

Reid sighed. "Honestly, I don't know what I did to deserve her."

"Anyway, she made me promise not to tell you I'd gotten all up in her face. And the next day you both seemed good."

"We were. That night, and I'm pretty sure it's the same night, I stormed off mad after we fought about telling the team. I just drove around for awhile, then went back. She'd been crying. We both apologized, then she told me she loved me. It was the first time. We decided that night that we'd tell you guys. But then it kept getting put off, until her father's death kind of pushed us into it."

"And, uh…you told her too, right?"

Reid smiled. "Yes, Morgan, I said it back." He met his friend's eyes. "I'm in love with her. I'm really gone, Derek. It's a little scary."

Morgan grinned. "I bet it is. But that's a good thing, man. For once that brain of yours doesn't get much of a say in things."

"No, that's for sure."

"You thinking serious thoughts?"

"Trying not to."

"Why?"

"It's too soon. I don't want to scare her off."

"You won't, as long as she's thinking those thoughts, too. And I think she is, man."

Reid sighed. "Maybe. I don't know. Her father dying has kind of thrown us from pretty-serious into dead-serious faster than we might have gone on our own. It's not a good time to talk about – well, anything permanent, like moving in together, or…"

"Or? Do I hear wedding bells?"

"It is _way_ too soon to think about _that._"

"You have been, though. Thinking about it, I mean."

He fiddled with his water glass, avoiding Morgan's all-seeing gaze. "I never really thought there'd be anybody for me. I wondered, I hoped, but I never believed it would happen. Part of me is still waiting for her to come to her senses and go find someone better."

"Hey," Morgan said, gently. Reid looked up and saw understanding in his friend's face. "I don't think they make men much better, Reid."

Reid blinked and swallowed hard. "Thanks, Morgan," he rasped.

"Yeah. And now we can add 'lucky' to your list of attributes. Because, damn. Emily is…"

"Watch it," Reid said, pointing at him. "That's _my_ girlfriend you're talking about."

Morgan laughed. "Listen to you, all back-off-my-woman. I love it."

"Glad as always that I can provide you with some amusement, Morgan. Eat your burger."

* * *

Reid let himself in to Emily's apartment. Given how the day had gone, him going off to work in the morning and her staying here, he couldn't resist. "Honey, I'm home!" he called, smirking. Something smelled really good.

Emily appeared in the hallway. "I knew you were going to say that," she said. She was smiling, but she looked tired and there was sadness around her eyes. He put down his bag and hugged her, drawing back for a kiss.

"How are you?" he asked.

She sighed. "It's been up and down. I'm glad you're home."

_Home. Yeah, I'm home. Because home is her._ "Something smells yummy."

"I needed something to do with myself. I tried to work, but I couldn't concentrate, so I figured, what the hell. I'll be all domestic and cook dinner for my man."

"Oh, is that what I am?"

"Well, you are a man, and you are mine. Right?"

He kissed her again, his hand stroking the small of her back. "Yep. Your own personal nerd."

"That's a good thing to have." She went back into the kitchen. He followed and leaned on the counter, staying out of her way. There were pots and pans and things being sautéed.

"What are you making here?"

"I don't really know. There's a chicken roasting, and this is all…well, it might be some kind of fried rice thing or it might just end up as a frittata. It's whatever was in the fridge." She stirred something. "How was your day?"

"Okay. Nobody teased me or really asked about us. Not in the bullpen, anyway. Morgan dragged me out to lunch so he could interrogate me."

"Oh, dear."

Reid crossed his arms. "Were you going to tell me that Morgan knew about us?"

Emily paused, then kept stirring. "I hadn't decided yet."

"He came and talked to you that night, didn't he? That first time you told me you loved me."

"Yes."

"So – did you tell me because you wanted to? Or because what Morgan said pushed you into it?"

Emily turned around, her hand on her hips, looking annoyed. "Morgan had nothing to do with it, Spencer. I said what I said because it was true."

"Is that all?"

She sighed. "Maybe he kind of – made things clearer to me. I knew I was in love with you, but I was afraid of it. It took Morgan assuming that we had some casual thing going on, I guess. Hearing him say that made me angry, it made me really get how serious I was about you. I couldn't keep holding back with you after that. I had to tell you how I felt. And I don't appreciate having my motives questioned."

"Can you blame me? It seemed like you were doing everything you could to keep our relationship a secret, to keep it from getting too serious. Sue me for wanting some reassurance."

"You know, this 'what are you doing with me' routine is getting really old. It's so self-pitying, not to mention a self-fulfilling prophecy."

"That's easy to say when you're you. A beautiful woman who's had any man she wanted for her entire life."

Emily scoffed. "Oh boy, if you think that's true, you really have not been paying attention. And you could have had as many women as you wanted if you'd just put yourself out there. You cower from every opportunity to make a connection with someone, act like they're doing you a favor if they so much as talk to you, and then whine about how nobody wants to be with you and wonder when I'm going to come to my senses, like I'm so stupid that I don't get what kind of man you are or whether or not I want to be with you, that I'm blinded by pity or loneliness and I don't even know my own heart, that I don't realize that it doesn't really belong to you, that I don't actually need you like fucking oxygen, that I'm totally deluded in thinking that you're the only person I want to be with for as long as I can imagine it and that it's not even real that I can't imagine life without you anymore!" She threw her spoon into the sink with a clatter and turned away, her hands on the edge of the counter, breathing hard with her head down. Her voice had steadily risen during that outburst until she was shouting.

Reid felt about two inches tall. _She's grieving her father and here you come, giving her shit about what she did and didn't say to Morgan and to you; this woman told you she loves you and you're harping on the damned timing?_

He went to her and put his hands on her shoulders. She turned around immediately and sagged against his chest. "Why can't you believe me?" she said, sounding choked up. "Don't you trust me?"

He pressed his face into her hair. "I'm sorry. I do believe you. I trust you more than anybody. I love you so much, Emily. It's just hard for me to accept that you love me back."

She pulled back and seized his upper arms, giving him a brisk shake. "Well, snap the hell out of it. You've given me a million reasons to love you. Don't start giving me reasons not to. Don't screw this up, please, I need you to not screw this up. I can't lose you, I can't, I just lost my – I need you to get over not believing it. Can you do that? I love you too much to lose you now. I need you in my life. But if you'll never be able to trust what I tell you then I can't be with you, and that can't happen, okay?"

He drew her close again and held her tight. "It won't happen. I won't let it happen. I trust you. I believe you. It's me I don't quite believe in. I just need to get used to being the Spencer that you see."

She nodded, then pulled away. "I know. It's just infuriating to me that people in your life made you think you weren't that Spencer. I hate every single one of them, up to and including your father."

Reid didn't say anything. Emily stroked his cheek, then went back to her cooking. For a few minutes no one spoke. "Is there anything you want to do tonight, or this weekend?" he finally asked.

"I might want to go see my mother tomorrow. You don't have to come if you don't want to."

"I'll come."

"Good. Other than that, there's just one thing I want."

"Chocolate?"

He saw her smile a little. "No, although I wouldn't turn it down. I was talking about sex."

He blinked. "Oh."

"It's very confusing. All day I've been sad, I've cried, I've felt nostalgic, I've gone through two different manic phases and taken two naps, but through it all I've just been really, really horny. You don't want to know how close I came to calling you and seeing if you could come home at lunchtime. But then I thought, eww. That's skeezy, calling my boyfriend home in the middle of the day to _service_ me."

"So you just suffered?"

"Oh, I found an alternate way of dealing with the issue."

His eyebrows went up. "Tell me more. Be detailed."

She tossed him a wry smile. "Maybe later I'll demonstrate. The whole thing is just so weird. It feels unseemly."

"It's a very normal reaction to a loss. Your body is reacting to death by reaffirming its own vitality. There's no better way to do that than through sex. I bet you've been hungry all day too, haven't you?"

"Yes! I'm eating everything in sight!"

"See? Vitality."

She grew quiet. "I'm doing the things my father can't do anymore."

He nodded. "Yes."

"It just feels so profoundly wrong to be crying and missing my father and feeling like I've gone all hollow inside and all the time in the back of my head I just want cock!"

Reid couldn't help himself. He burst out laughing. Emily glared at him. "I'm sorry, I'm so sorry, it's just…" He flapped a hand in front of his face. "All right. I'm done. I'm sorry."

"I guess it is a little bit funny," she grumbled. The timer on the microwave went off. "Oh. The chicken's done. Are you hungry?"

"Sure."

"Grab some plates, let's eat."

* * *

After dinner, they washed the dishes and cleaned up the kitchen, and then – well, there was just no other word for it. Emily _attacked_ him. She had not been lying about wanting cock, apparently. They staggered up the stairs, stumbling over each other, leaving articles of clothing in their wake until they tumbled into bed.

She was motivated, that much was certain. Reid barely had the chance to take any initiative; she was moving things along faster than he could keep up. Before he knew it, he was on his back and she was riding him like she was trying to win a prize at the rodeo. When it was over, she barely gave them enough time to catch their breath before she was all over him again. He had no complaints; it was kind of fun to be her sex toy when that's what she needed. It must have worked; after the second time, she curled on her side and fell almost immediately into a deep sleep.

Reid waited until he was sure she was out, then he carefully got out of bed, put his boxers back on, crept downstairs, fetched his laptop and brought it back to bed. He sat up next to her, logged in and started some work, keeping the lights off so as not to disturb her. It was barely eight o'clock, much earlier than either of them would normally go to bed, but Emily'd had a hell of a week and he knew she hadn't been sleeping very well.

About half an hour later, Garcia found him on IM.

PenGar: Hi sweetie.  
Reid1138: Hey Garcia  
PenGar: How's our girl?  
Reid1138: She's sleeping  
PenGar: Poor thing. Probably hasn't had much sleep this week.  
Reid1138: No, not really.  
PenGar: Why aren't you in bed with her?  
Reid1138: I am.  
PenGar: Oh, I get it. Post-coital, huh?  
Reid1138: *eyeroll*  
PenGar: C'mon, let me have my fun.  
Reid1138: You'll have it whether I let you or not.  
PenGar: Now you're getting it. Seriously, though. I bet she's glad to have you there at a time like this.  
Reid1138: We had an almost-fight earlier.  
PenGar: Yeah? What about?  
Reid1138: It's not important. I said something I shouldn't have said.  
PenGar: You guys looked so sweet at the funeral. When you walked into the cathedral everyone saw it.  
Reid1138: Saw what?  
PenGar: She was obviously upset and vulnerable, but the way she was turned into you, anybody could see she trusts you. And you all protective with your arm around her. It made my heart go pitter-pat.  
Reid1138: I wish there was an *eyeroll* emoticon.  
PenGar: Don't you roll those baby browns at me, mister man. I refuse to let you stop me from swooning over your passionate love affair.  
Reid1138: That makes it sound like something that would happen on a transatlantic ocean liner or during the Blitz.  
PenGar: rofl. Yeah, it kinda does. But it is passionate, right?  
Reid1138: If you'd been in here an hour ago you wouldn't need to ask.  
PenGar: Oh, snap. And it is love, right?  
Reid1138: I hope so. I think so.  
PenGar: Then I stand by my characterization.  
Reid1138: It's the "affair" part I don't like. That connotes something transitory, or doomed. Something that won't last.  
PenGar: You sound serious.  
Reid1138: Yeah, I think I am.  
PenGar: How serious? Bachelor party serious? Ring shopping serious?  
Reid1138: Garcia. Gun. You're jumping it.  
PenGar: Sorry. I get overexcited.  
Reid1138: You? Surely not.  
PenGar: But serious.  
Reid1138: Serious, yeah. But a serious dating relationship. Not moving in, not getting engaged. It's too soon.  
PenGar: When the time is right and the people are right, it's never too soon.  
Reid1138: I don't think even you believe that.  
PenGar: Maybe I just want to. I just want to believe that my babies will live happily ever after.  
Reid1138: Let's shoot for making it through the week.  
PenGar: That's a good start.  
Reid1138: I'm going to go to sleep now.  
PenGar: It's kinda early.  
Reid1138: Well…let's just say it's been an active evening.  
PenGar: You can't see but I am squealing and shaking. I just knew that beneath those sweater vests beat the heart of a sex god.  
Reid1138: See above, re: eyeroll emoticon.  
PenGar: Goodnight, my sexy genius.  
Reid1138: Night, Garcia.

Reid signed off and shut down the laptop. It was still early for bed but he felt more than ready for some shut-eye. It hadn't just been a tough week for Emily. More and more he was finding out that part of being in a relationship was that her pain was his, and the unexpected part was that he didn't mind. In fact, he wished he could take more of her pain for her, so she would be spared.

He put the laptop on the nightstand and slid down, wrapping the sheets around his shoulders. He shut his eyes, listening to the deep, even sound of Emily's breathing and feeling her warmth slipping across the sheets to meet his own.

He'd just about dropped off when her breathing hitched and she stirred. He was immediately awake, but didn't move. She made a distressed little noise and her legs moved restlessly. Bad dreams were not strange to them given their work, and he knew the signs of hers. He waited to see if she'd drop back off to a deeper sleep. She mumbled something unintelligible, sounding upset, then a shaky little sob escaped her. "Daddy," she murmured, her voice made young by sleeping grief. Reid slid closer, not wanting to wake her but wanting her to feel him nearby. Emily mumbled a few more nonsensical words, sounding like she was pleading, then began to weep in her slumber, heartbroken tears that made Reid's skin hurt. "Spencer," she whimpered.

That was the end of his resolve. He reached out and pulled her toward him. She turned over, still mostly asleep, and burrowed into his arms, her fingers clutching at him. "Shhh," he said, kissing her forehead. "I'm right here, Emily."

He felt her coming awake into that confusion that came when you weren't quite sure what was going on or what emotional state you might be in. "Wha…huh?" she spluttered, surprised to find herself crying.

"It's okay, you were having a dream," he said, stroking her back.

"Shit," she said, sniffling. "It isn't safe anywhere." She was clinging to his t-shirt now, the fingers of one hand twisted in it.

"I'll keep you safe. Want me to get my gun?"

That got a little bit of a choked-up giggle out of her. "Yes. Please shoot the bad nightmares."

"Okay. Just make sure the bad nightmares hold very, very still because I'm not such a great shot."

She sighed, getting herself under control, and snuggled close to him. "I'm sorry to wake you up."

"It's okay." He hesitated. "You just did something for me."

"What'd I do? Besides get snot on you."

He pulled back and looked down into her red-rimmed eyes. "You were dreaming. You cried for your dad. You were upset and scared." He smoothed her hair back from her face with one finger. "Then you called for me."

She smiled weakly. "Cause you're my guy and I love you." The simplicity and confidence of this declaration touched him all over again. Reid wrapped his arms around her as they shared tender kisses, aware by now that this woman owned him, body and soul, and that he was completely okay with that.


	10. Chapter 10

_"But that's my point. With you, I'm just – safe. To be however I really am at that moment, whether it's strong and brave or sad and weepy, or silly or nerdy or neurotic or sentimental or calm. I've never felt safe like that with anyone else." She was looking at him now with a vaguely surprised expression, as if what she was saying was a revelation even to herself. "Damn," she said, quietly. "I really love you."_

__

He watched her face. "So you didn't mean it when you said so before?"

"No, it's not that, it's – I guess it's getting real now. You've been so amazing since my dad died, I know it hasn't been very much fun. But here you are and I don't know how I would have gotten through this without you."

"You would have."

"Yeah, I suppose. But I just…" She put her hand on his face. "I keep being surprised by it. It's my own history messing with me. I'm waiting to start feeling stifled, or impatient, or for you to start being unreasonable and demanding, but instead – every morning I wake up and I'm still happy to be with you. It's a new thing for me."

Reid could hardly think how to respond to that. "It's new for me, too."

"I didn't plan to get into this right now, but – I just want you to know that wherever we go from here, I'm…I'm all in," she said, smiling.

_-How to Fight Loneliness, Chapter 31_

_

* * *

_

_one month later_

_

* * *

_

Reid waited calmly, holding his cards close to his chest. Rodney was the only one still in the hand; Morgan, Fred and Aziz had all folded. Rodney was sweating bullets trying to decide. Finally he sighed. "All right, call." He lay down his cards. "Two pair, nines over fours."

Reid laid down his own hand. "Jacks over eights."

A general outcry went up from the poker table. "You son of a bitch!" Rodney yelled, but he was half-laughing, too. "How you do that, huh? How the hell's he do that?" he said to Morgan.

"I don't know how he does half the things he does," Morgan said, tossing his cards back into the pile.

Reid collected his chips. "I could teach you, but I'd have to charge." Uproarious laughter from the rest of the players. Reid looked around at them, puzzled. It hadn't been _that_ funny. "What?"

Fred gaped at Morgan. "Does he not know that he just quoted 'Milkshake?'"

"Do not even," Morgan said, holding up a hand.

"What'd I quote?" Reid said.

"Never mind, kid. I think it's time for more beer." Morgan got up and went to his fridge.

Reid had played poker with Morgan and some of his cop buddies a few times now. Rodney was DC police, Fred was ATF and Aziz was a Maryland state trooper. "So, Reid," Fred said. "You got a girlfriend?"

"Yes," Reid said, suppressing the smile that still wanted to rise to his lips whenever he answered that question in the affirmative. He was still getting used to having that answer instead of the opposite one.

"Yeah? She hot?"

Morgan sat back down, handing around bottles of Guinness. Reid took one. He'd learned to like Guinness hanging out with Morgan. "You've met her, Fred. You remember Emily? She came with me to the gym a couple of times."

"Oh yeah! Oh hell, man, she's your girlfriend?" Fred said. "She is _fine._"

Reid squirmed in his seat. "She's very beautiful, yes."

"No, no. That's how you describe a fucking painting on a wall. You got a hot girlfriend, man. Own it."

"I'm not comfortable discussing Emily like she's a piece of meat."

Suddenly Rodney slapped the table, his face going wide-eyed with surprise. "Shit, Morgan! Emily? This is Emily's boyfriend? That means he's the guy! That guy!"

The other men at the table hooted and whooped, except Morgan, who just looked mortified. Reid raised an eyebrow. "Morgan, what are they talking about?"

"Uh…nothing."

"Nothing? This guy's our damn hero, man! I've been dying to shake his hand! Lemme shake your hand, man," Aziz said, extending his hand across the table. Puzzled, Reid shook it. "You are the _man_, man."

"Thanks, I think. Why, exactly, am I the man?"

"Well," Rodney said, leaning forward with an air of delicious gossip about him. "According to Morgan here, you have some mad skills in the bedroom department, you know what I mean?"

Reid stared at Morgan, incredulous. "And how would Morgan know anything about that?"

Morgan harrumphed. "All right, here's how it went down. So me and Garcia were talking, and she got to telling me that one time she, JJ and Emily went out and had a few beers, and of course they started talking about sex like women do and Emily said that one time you and her went for three hours straight and that's all I know about it," he said, everything after the word "sex" rushing out of him at warp speed.

A number of possible ways he could react to this sprung to Reid's mind and were quickly analyzed. First of all, he could get mad. Mad that Emily had talked to her friends about their sex life, mad that Garcia had repeated it to Morgan, mad that Morgan had repeated it to his friends. This option was quickly put aside. Was he actually mad? Or did he just think he _ought_ to be mad? Women talked about sex with their girlfriends, this was true. Men talked about it even more. He didn't, but mostly because he'd never had a sex life to talk about before nor anyone to talk about it with, and he kept his mouth shut out of deference to Emily's feelings. But if Emily was talking about it to JJ and Garcia, she'd have a hard time getting mad at him for talking about it. And she had to have known that Garcia wouldn't keep it to herself. Besides, it wasn't as if she'd told them he had a tiny penis (which he did not) or that he was a lousy lay (which he was not). It was something complimentary and impressive.

Second, he could be the gentleman and decline to comment. That was certainly his first instinct, and probably the wisest course of action. His intimate life with Emily was private, after all, and just because Emily had shared with her friends didn't mean he had to. Not that Morgan's poker buddies were really his friends.

But there was a third option: play along. He was playing poker with men and drinking beer. And now his sexual prowess was being praised third-hand by the woman he was sleeping with. Wasn't this the sort of locker-room scenario he'd never gotten to participate in? What was the harm? It was normal. A kind of normal he'd never been.

All these considerations passed through his mind in the time it took everyone to process Morgan's revelation. The other three men at the table were watching him raptly.

"She said that one time we went for three hours straight?" Reid said.

"Is it true?" Fred asked.

"I'm afraid not."

The other men deflated a little. Morgan clapped him on the shoulder. "Aw, that's okay, kid."

Reid looked him in the face. "It was more than just the one time," he said, cocking one eyebrow.

The uproar that greeted this statement blew him back a little. Hoots and hollers and clapping and cheers. Morgan laughed, shaking his head like he couldn't believe what he'd just heard. "Damn, pretty boy," he said. "Just when I think I know you."

"Dude! How do you do that?" Rodney exclaimed. "Seriously, how? I mean...three damn hours? You don't look like you got it in you – uh, no offense."

"None taken," Reid said, tossing some peanuts into his mouth.

"You gotta share your secret, man. Spread the wealth."

"So to speak," Aziz said, sniggering.

"There's no secret," Reid said.

"There's gotta be a secret! What is it, protein shakes? Some kinda weird herb from Guatemala?"

Reid laughed. "No, nothing like that. There's no secret."

"Then how do you _do_ that? Don't be like that, man! Help a brother out!" Rodney said.

Reid looked around at them. "Anyone can do it. It's very simple."

"So we're stupid! Spell it out, man!" All of them were looking at him with rapt expectation. Even Morgan, although he was trying to play it cool. Reid felt an odd surge of something he'd never experienced before. These men, these macho men, were looking up to him and asking him for advice about sex. He knew it was shallow and juvenile and beneath him and damn, it felt good.

"All right," he said. "Here it is." He leaned forward and spread his hands like he was revealing a magic trick. "Breaks."

They all blinked, frowning. "Breaks? That's it?" Aziz said.

"That's it. Take breaks."

They were all looking at each other like such a thought had never entered their minds. Reid was astounded. It seemed like such a normal thing to do. "So...how's that work, exactly?" Rodney asked. "I mean, how do you just take a break?"

"Umm..." He felt his face reddening. He didn't particularly want to go into exact detail of how he made love to Emily. The last time they'd gone for hours together it had involved a trip to the kitchen for cookies, a shared half hour in the Jacuzzi, a massage, a long conversation about public places it might be fun to have sex, and a pause to check the Weather Channel. But all that was too much information for this conversation. Maybe he could keep it general. "Well, you do one thing for awhile. Then you take a break, maybe get up, get a drink, then do something else for awhile. Then you relax, talk a little, snuggle. Then you do something else, then you pause again - are you getting the idea? You ramp up, then you relax. Repeat as needed."

This description was so inadequate that Reid almost hated to leave it at that even while his sense of propriety demanded that he say no more. How could he put into words what it was really like to spend that time in bed with Emily, touching each other, sometimes just holding each other, breathing in each other's air, talking or not talking, bringing each other high and then coming down so they could do it again. Energetic minutes followed by languid ones, laughing and tickling and kissing and stroking, trying new positions, going down on each other. Most nights, they had sex as one normally thought of it. Some foreplay, pick a position or two, get each other off. It was good, but he'd come to really cherish those times when they took their time with it. It felt like mortar, cementing them together, another layer every time they engaged in that kind of sex, building something strong between them.

"Damn," Fred said. "That sounds – kinda nice. Less pressure."

"Some of the best conversations I've ever had with Emily have been in that situation," Reid said. "It creates intimacy. And when you take your time, there can be several, uh, iterations." Blank looks. Reid sighed, exasperated. "You can both get off more than once, okay?" Nods and exclamations of understanding now.

"I think my wife would like that. If we could find the time. I mean, with the kids and the house and everything…"

"Make the time. At least once in awhile. Your relationship should be a priority too, right? Isn't everything else built on that?"

"You sound like you've been reading Cosmo," Morgan joked.

"No. I just think it's important to pay attention to my relationship with my girlfriend."

"Sounds like one lucky girlfriend," Fred said, smiling.

Aziz looked thoughtful. "Is it weird that I kinda wish _I_ was your girlfriend right now?"

The rest of them exchanged glances. "Yes," they all said in unison.

"And you guys always do it like that?" Rodney asked.

"Oh God, no. Once in awhile. You do have to carve out some time for it."

"And it pays off in the end?"

Reid sighed. "Like you wouldn't believe."

"All right, all right," Morgan interjected. "Has Dr. Reid schooled you all enough for one night? Or can we play some poker?"

"So I can school you in that, too?" Reid said, smirking.

Aziz snickered. "Pwned."

* * *

Emily's apartment was quiet and dark when Reid got home. Their rule of no overnights during the workweek had gone out the window after Emily's father's death, and by this time Reid was spending probably five out of seven nights here. He'd bought duplicate razors and toothbrushes to keep here and more and more of his clothes were migrating into Emily's closet. He even had his own drawer for underwear and socks. Thoughts about moving in together were becoming more and more insistent in his mind as they grew closer to approaching that state on their own.

A few nights ago, they'd turned a corner, or at least that was how it had felt to Reid. He'd woken up to find her out of bed and working, unable to sleep. Emily had told him that she really loved him, in a way that was new and different and a little scary, and that she was committed to their relationship, whatever the next step was. Reid was feeling them moving steadily away from "you and me" and toward "us." It felt good. It felt secure, and that was new to him.

He heard the TV playing upstairs and saw the glow of light from the bedroom. He hung his coat in the closet and went up. Emily was sitting on top of the covers in her nightshirt, her laptop open on her legs. She smiled at him as he entered. "Hi," she said.

He dropped his messenger bag by his side of the bed and went around to her side to kiss her hello. "What are you doing?"

"Just catching up on some paperwork. You smell like beer."

"Yeah, I'm going to take a shower."

"I'll finish this up before you're done."

He went into the bathroom and brushed his teeth, then stripped and showered. He put on boxers and a t-shirt and emerged, beer smell banished. Emily had put away her laptop and was idly flipping channels. He sat down on the edge of the bed near her feet, hitching one knee up to face her. "Anything interesting on?"

"Not unless you're enthralled by reruns of 'Law & Order.'" She turned the TV off, tapping her toes on his leg. "How was poker?"

"Oh, the usual. Beat the pants off some guys who thought I'd be a lightweight." He picked up her foot and set it against his shoulder so he could massage her leg. Emily smiled and shifted down in the bed, practically purring with the attention. "Had a rather interesting conversation with Morgan's friends."

"Yeah?" she said, eyes closed as his hands stroked up and down her skin.

"Mmm-hmm. They wanted some sex tips."

Her eyes opened and she frowned at him, blinking. "From you?"

"Seems that they'd heard via Morgan via Garcia via someone in this room who is not me that you and I have, on occasion, had sex for three hours straight."

Emily groaned and put her hand on her face. "Oh, my God."

"Come on. You had to know that Garcia wouldn't keep that to herself."

"Maybe...I was half in the bag during that conversation." She looked at him sheepishly. "Are you mad?"

"Are you kidding? I'm their new god."

"I don't know what I was thinking, blabbing to Garcia and JJ." She thought for a moment. "No, I do know what I was thinking. I think I just wanted to brag a little about how good I got it," she said, giving him a coquettish look. "And I just know that people wonder about what it's like in bed with you. Maybe I wanted to shut them up a bit the next time they go to call you cute or adorable, like you're a bunny rabbit with no sexual identity."

"Well, you didn't go into any gory detail, so it's no big thing."

"What did you tell the guys?"

"Generalizations. They thought there was some big secret, like an herb I'm taking. I told them to take breaks." He shrugged. "I kept it vague."

Emily sat up, pulling herself into his lap and twining her arms around his neck. Reid let his hands slide around her waist. "So you didn't tell them about that thing we do?" she said.

"God, no. That's private. You didn't tell JJ and Garcia, did you?"

"No way. Some things aren't meant to be shared, even with your girlfriends." She kissed him, a slow and lingering kiss full of unspoken promises. "You want to do that thing tonight?"

"Hmm," he said, kissing her back. "Keep talking."

* * *

It was a Thursday night. For once, Reid and Emily were hanging out at his place. She had asked if they could, giving no reason, and had insisted on cooking him dinner in his apartment. In fact, as it just now occurred to him, she had been unusually chirpy and accommodating all evening.

She was buttering him up.

"You want some more coffee?" she asked, standing over him where he was sitting on the couch, working on his laptop.

"You know what I'd like the most right now?"

"What?"

"For you to just ask me whatever you're working up the nerve to ask me." He peered at her over the tops of his glasses.

Emily fidgeted, looking sheepish. "That obvious, huh?"

"The mistress of subtle has left the building."

She sat down on the ottoman. "All right, here it is. My uncle Brian is having a big family Easter thing at his house in Philadelphia this weekend and my mother would really, really like us to come."

"Us?"

"Okay, me. But I told her that 'me' meant 'us.' At least I hope it does."

Reid sighed. Hotch had given everyone a four-day weekend, and he'd been looking forward to it. Looking forward to getting some work done, looking forward to spending some time with Emily, looking forward to sleeping in and having sex and talking for hours. If there was something he'd rather do less than drive up to Philadelphia and spend the weekend with Emily's uncle Brian and the rest of her family, he couldn't think of it at the moment. He looked at her pained expression. "How long would we stay?"

"We'd drive up Saturday evening, come back Sunday evening. I don't want to spend the whole day up there any more than you do. But Mom – I never thought I'd hear myself say this, but I think she needs me. It's been hard for her since Dad died." She looked down at her hands, restlessly twisting together between her knees. "I need to try and stay close to her, Spencer. It's just her and me now."

Reid refrained from reminding her that she also had him. He understood that she meant family. He reached out and plucked one of her fidgety hands and held it in his own. "What time do you want to leave on Saturday?"

* * *

Emily's car pulled up to her uncle Brian's house (although 'mansion' might have been more accurate) in Bala Cynwyd just after seven o'clock in the evening. They both jumped out of the car, glad to be free of it. They'd spent half the ride arguing and it hadn't made for a very pleasant drive. Still half-resenting the time away from home, Reid had wanted nothing more than to put the three-hour drive to good use and get some reading done. Normally Emily was quiet while driving, so this seemed like a reasonable extrapolation, but today she'd been chatty. Nervous, he realized, and uncomfortable making this visit, but her desire to engage him in conversation had irritated him, which made him snappy, which made her defensive, which made him even more irritated.

Still, she grabbed his hand as they walked up to the door, either wanting to put forward an image of solidarity or needing the reassurance. Either way, he was on board. Brian answered the door himself, smiling. "Emily, how great to see you! And Dr. Reid, welcome." He hugged Emily and shook Reid's hand as he offered these greetings. "Come on in – no, Garrett will park your car and get your bags," he said, as a man in khakis and a polo shirt who could have passed for a cousin went by them. Reid realized that the man was 'the help,' as it used to be called and perhaps still was in some quarters.

"Is Mom here?" Emily asked as they came inside.

"She's in the study on the phone with your grandmother," Brian said. "I ought to go give her some moral support. You guys make yourselves comfortable. Have a drink. We'll be out in a few minutes." He patted Emily's shoulder and vanished back into the house, leaving Emily and Reid in the den-like room he'd led them to.

Emily flopped into one of the leather couches. "You want a drink?" he said, nodding to the wet bar in the corner.

"Nah, I better stay sharp," she said. She got up and came over to him. "Thanks for coming," she said, quietly.

He shrugged. "I can't let you face the hordes alone."

She leaned against his shoulder. "We won't stay any longer than we have to."

Before Reid could answer, a door to their left opened and a man about Emily's age came in. He was handsome and put-together in an Ivy League kind of way. Reid looked at his clothes and his features, reminiscent of Brian's, and deduced that this must be Emily's cousin Hobart, about whom he'd heard much. Hobart and Emily had been very close as children and still were. Hobart hadn't been around when Emily's father died, he'd been in Denmark on business. He had been at the funeral, Reid was told, but in the hubbub they hadn't met and Reid didn't recall having seen him there. Then again, he'd been distracted. Emily grinned. "Hey," she said, going to hug him.

"Emzilla," probably-Hobart said, hugging her back, lifting her an inch off the ground or so. "Thank God you came, it's like the Bataan Death March all up in here." He turned his perfect smile on to Reid. "Is this the infamous Dr. Reid?" he said, a smirky quirk to his voice that felt familiar.

Emily grinned. "Yes, it is. This is Spencer."

Probably-Hobart stuck out his hand. "Good to meet you. Hobart Hofstedter. Call me H, everyone does."

"Nice to meet you," he said, shaking definitely-Hobart's hand.

"Huh. I expected someone younger," H said.

"Your father said that, too," Reid said.

"Well, to hear Aunt Betsy talk, I was thinking you'd be like, twenty."

Reid sensed Emily going rigid at his side. "Why, what does she say?"

"Oh, you know."

"Pretend I don't."

"She told Mom you'd gotten yourself a boy toy."

Emily's face went stony. "Oh. Really."

"I told Mom that you weren't the boy toy type."

"Excuse me a moment," Emily said, and stalked out of the room, leaving Reid and H alone.

Reid looked at H, reassessing his initial impression. "You did that on purpose."

H glanced at him. "Em needs to stake her claim on this. Betsy's waiting for her to dump you and it's obvious she's not going to, so she'd better have it out with her sooner rather than later so they can both get over it." He wandered over to the wet bar. "What can I get you?"

"Brandy, if you have it."

"I do, indeed." He came back over with a glass for Reid and one for himself.

"You and Emily grew up together," Reid said.

H nodded. "Mostly. Not so much after they started traveling. But we've stayed pretty close." He was eyeing Reid. "I watched her with you at the funeral. I've never seen her like that with anybody."

"Like what?"

"Truthful." Reid didn't know what to say to that. H motioned him into a chair. As they both sat, they could hear Emily and her mother shouting somewhere else in the house. No words were intelligible, just raised voices. "Good," H murmured.

"Did she really say I was Emily's boy toy?" Reid asked.

"She did, indeed. Said she didn't realize Emily had been desperate enough to dip her pen in company ink, so to speak. She could have lined up some prospects if she'd known the situation was so dire. I'm paraphrasing."

Anger bubbled up in Reid's chest, but he'd leave it to Emily. He was certain she'd be angry enough for both of them. "I thought she liked me," he said.

"She does. In a way. She thinks you're smart and capable. That doesn't mean she thinks her daughter ought to marry you."

"Who said anything about marriage?"

H smiled. "You and Emily did, when you stood together over her father's grave like you were already family. That might not have been what you meant, but it's what everyone else saw. And don't think Betsy isn't getting calls from the bluebloods asking who you are and who your parents are and where you went to school."

"I'm Dr. Spencer Reid. My mother is a paranoid schizophrenic confined to a mental institution and my father is a deadbeat. I went to UNLV and then CalTech for my doctorates, of which I have three. All of which Emily knows and accepts, so I don't see how it's anybody else's business."

"It isn't. And really, Betsy knows it. She's straddling a tightrope and it's no small task. Robert's people are especially thorny. He was the golden boy of that family and Emily is his only child, so they're taking a keen interest in whose genetic material might someday be grafted onto the family tree. Betsy wants Emily to be happy, but she can get confused about what will make her so."

A cold ball settled into Reid's stomach at the mere mention of his genetic material combining with Emily's. That was a discussion that hadn't even been touched upon. "She's happy with me," he said.

"I know that. As does anybody with eyes."

Emily came stalking back in. "We're leaving."

Reid got up. "No. I think we should stay."

"I don't want to stick around here for you to be insulted!"

"I've been called worse things."

"I refuse to subject you to the idiotic snobbish pretentious…" She cut herself off. "It doesn't matter. Let's go."

"Emily, that isn't going to help. Then you're just the rebellious daughter who fled to avoid family scrutiny of her scandalous boyfriend. If she thinks I'm a boy toy then I say we stay so that everybody can see that I'm not."

H beamed at Emily. "I like him."

Emily sighed. "Are you sure? It could get ugly around here."

"Not because of us. We will be the souls of sweetness and consideration, then if anyone else is ugly they'll look like the assholes. And if your mother says unkind things about me or about us behind our backs everyone will say no, surely not that nice young couple."

She smiled at him, then looked over at her cousin. "There are advantages to dating a genius profiler," she said.

"Apparently," H said, grinning.


	11. Chapter 11

_two months later_

_

* * *

_

Stakeouts with Rossi made Reid feel like an old-school PI, or like he was on one of those cop shows where stakeouts only went on for a few minutes, when in reality they could take days. Rossi on stakeout drank coffee from a Thermos, ate junk food, and listened to Dean Martin on the CD player in the car. Reid actually watched the home of their suspect, figuring that one of them ought to be paying attention.

"You gonna eat that?" Rossi said, pointing at a bag of Bugles.

"No, go ahead." Rossi opened the bag and crunched up a handful. "You're going to get heartburn, Dave. Then we'll both suffer."

"I took Pepcid earlier. Be prepared, that's my motto."

"Yeah, you and the Boy Scouts."

"You were a Boy Scout?"

Reid smirked. "No. I was too busy studying number theory. Tying knots and camping couldn't have interested me less."

"You should try camping. You might like it."

"I doubt it."

"Emily likes to camp."

"I know," Reid said with a silent groan. "She's been making…suggestions. I may have to bite the bullet and go."

"The things we do for our women." Dave was eyeing him with a speculative expression. Reid kept watching the house up ahead. He wasn't going to roll out the red carpet if Dave wanted to ask him about Emily. He'd have to take the initiative on his own.

Finally, he did. "You two getting along okay?"

"Yep." He raised the binoculars and peered into the upstairs window. The suspect was still watching what looked like "Ghost Hunters."

"She seemed a little snappish earlier."

"She's annoyed with me."

"Why's that?"

"Because I threw away what was to all appearances an extremely out-of-date magazine."

"And?"

"How was I supposed to know it contained crucial information about some kind of facial product that of course cannot possibly be obtained elsewhere?"

"Oh, dear."

Reid sighed. "It was _two months_ out of date."

"Feeling a little territorial, is she?"

"You think that's it?"

"How much time do you spend there?"

"A lot."

"How many nights do you stay over?"

"Four or five a week, except when we're on the road."

"Uh huh. Do you have a key?"

"Yes."

"A drawer?"

"Yes."

"Has she freaked out at you about something bathroom-related yet?"

Reid's eyes widened. "Yes! She said I was getting toothpaste on the mirror and leaving hairs on the sink when I shave! Which is completely untrue, that bathroom is spotless after I use it."

"That's not the point. How long has Emily lived alone?"

"Her whole life."

"She's _never_ lived with a man before? Or a roommate?"

"No, never."

"Oh, Jesus. Brace yourself. Not only is she getting used to having you around a lot, but she's feeling what that means in terms of your relationship. So it's not just a normal encroachment of space and routine like if she'd gotten a roommate, it's also an encroachment of her life as she shares more and more of it with you."

"But – I've lived alone my whole adult life too, and it's not freaking me out!"

"It isn't your home she's moving into."

"Yeah, I guess you're right."

"And don't act like you're the put-upon shoutee. I seem to recall there being some tension a few weeks ago in which you were the aggrieved party."

"She read the draft of my new article without asking me!"

"Sounds like she's not the only feeling a little jealous of her vanishing privacy."

Reid grumbled. "All right, I get your point."

"Speaking of homes, how's your crazy house coming along?"

"Good! They're starting on the exterior now that the weather's nice. The floors and the drywall are done inside, they're stripping and refinishing the built-in woodwork now and putting in some more that'll blend in like it was always there. Another few months until I can move in."

"Until _you_ can move in?" Rossi said, giving him a knowing look.

Reid sighed. "That thought stays in my head."

"Has she seen it?"

"No. I don't want her to. She keeps asking. I don't want her to see it until it's done."

"Uh huh."

"Quit looking at me like that."

"Like what? I'm not looking like anything."

Reid sat back with a sigh, propping his head on his hand. "All right, yes. I'd like her to move in there with me. But we have not talked about that and I don't think now is the right time."

"Why not?"

"Things have been kind of pushed aside since her dad died. I don't want to rush her, she doesn't react well to that."

"Reid?" Rossi said, his tone gentle. Reid looked over at him. "I don't know a lot about women, despite having vast experience with attempting to be married to them. But I know this much. That woman loves you. Snappishness aside, she is more contented and more centered now than I've ever seen her, and so are you. So get the hell out of your own way, will you?"

Reid smiled. "Thanks, Dave. I'll consider it."

"Good. Hey, you gonna eat that?"

* * *

"Where did you put the trash bags?"

"Under the sink."

A little sigh of exasperation came from her. Reid had heard it more often than he'd have liked the past week. "I keep the trash bags in the bottom drawer with the tinfoil."

"It's more ergonomically efficient to keep them under the sink."

"Maybe I don't _care_ about ergonomic efficiency, Reid! I just want the damn trash bags where I always have them, just like I want the salt and pepper shakers where I've always had them and the thermostat set like I've always had it!" She turned around, hands up. "Please, could you just – you're underfoot. Go in the living room, let me do this."

"I was going to chop the…"

"Just go!" she snapped.

Yesterday, he would have gone. But today, he didn't. Reid steeled himself, went over to her and turned her around to face him. "Emily. Stop it."

"Stop what? Let go."

"No. Stop _this._ Stop guarding your turf!"

"Don't you profile me, Spencer Reid. Turnabout is fair play on that, you know. How come you won't even let me read any of the papers you're writing? You used to want my input!"

That accusation came out of left field. "This isn't about me!"

"Yes, it is! You're here but sometimes you're not here. It's like the more you're here, the more you withdraw!"

"If I withdraw it's because the more I'm here, the more you seem to not want me here!"

He watched her angry face collapse. She sagged and lowered her eyes. "I do want you here. I don't sleep well anymore if you're not here. The nights you go home I miss you."

"And that scares you, doesn't it?"

She nodded. "I never wanted to depend on anybody. I never wanted to get used to having someone there because inevitably it would end and then I'd have to get used to being alone again. I've never had someone share my life as much as you do. I like it, really I do, but there's this little voice telling me I shouldn't like it. That I better start finding reasons why it won't work so that when it doesn't I won't be so surprised."

He pulled her close. She came against him easily. "It will work unless you don't let it."

"I know," she said, muffled against his sweater. "But it isn't just me." She tipped her head back and looked up at him. "Why don't you ask my opinion anymore? Why don't you want to know what I think?"

Reid sighed. "Because it matters now. Before, you were a friend, and you could have whatever opinion you had and it didn't bother me. Now…all I want is for you to think I'm smart and capable and that the things I think and write are good. It's like I just want to be this paragon for you so you won't notice that I'm terrified of disappointing you, so it's just easier not to show you anything. Then you can't think it's stupid or ill-conceived."

She put her hand on his face. "I would never think that."

"You don't know some of the half-assed ideas I come up with. I don't usually let those out in the open."

"Nothing could make me think you're anything less than brilliant."

"And nothing could make me want to leave you," he said.

They just stood there for a moment, looking into each other's eyes. Emily sighed. "I won't guard my turf. Much."

"I'll tell you what I'm thinking. Mostly."

She grinned. "Crisis averted?"

"Oh, that was never a crisis. Perhaps a spat."

"Or a flap."

"If swear words had been exchanged we could upgrade it to a kerfuffle."

She hugged him hard. "You know, I don't really care where the trash bags are, or that you threw away that Cosmo."

"And you ought to be able to read what I'm writing."

They embraced for a few moments, then Emily pulled away, patting his chest. "Come on, G-man. Those carrots aren't going to chop themselves."

* * *

Reid flipped up his collar and tied his tie, snugging the knot up tight for once. He looked at himself in the hotel room mirror, trying to imagine how Emily's extended family would view him. He didn't look – bad. It was a relatively new suit, and it fit him appropriately. He felt like he'd already run quite the family gauntlet during the aftermath of Robert's death, but nobody had really been that focused on him at the time. It had been about Robert. This was a_wedding._ A family wedding.

"She's taking you to a _wedding?_" Morgan had said, his expression conveying incredulity and a species of horror.

"Yeah, what's so weird about that?"

"Man, when a woman takes you to a wedding, she's thinking thoughts and she hopes you'll start, too. Whose wedding?"

"Her cousin Hobart."

"Is she close to him?"

"Yes."

"It's like the Family Audition times a thousand. You're a braver man than I."

"I've met a lot of her family already. Why is this different?"

"It just is, kid. You'll see."

Reid was feeling a little nervous now. He couldn't say why, exactly. The bathroom door opened and he turned to see Emily emerge. His breath caught in his throat a little. She was wearing a floor-length cobalt-blue dress, simple and elegant. She stopped when she saw him looking, and he saw her eyes flick up and down him. "You look amazing," he said.

She smiled and came over to him. She brushed her hands over his shoulders and tugged on his lapels like she was fixing him up, that little smile on her face the whole time. "Anybody ever tell you that you're insanely attractive, Dr. Reid?" she murmured.

"Yes, all the time. Random passersby stop me on the street."

"Stop it," she said, chuckling.

"Anyway, nobody's going to notice me at all with you next to me in that dress."

"You like it?" she asked, a little shyly.

"You're making my eyes hurt."

Incredibly, she blushed. "That's the reaction I was going for."

Reid smiled. "You bought that dress because you hoped I'd like it?"

She shrugged. "What's wrong with that?"

"Nothing. I just never imagined you selecting clothes with me in mind."

"Is it so hard to believe I might want to look good for you?"

"You look good to me no matter what you're wearing."

She sighed, looking up at him like she was trying to memorize his face. "You know how you're different from other men I've dated?"

"I can do a linear combination of three orbital wavefunctions in my head."

She snickered. "Besides that."

"Tell me."

"When you say things like that to me, I never wonder if you're just telling me what I want to hear. I can believe the things you say. You have no idea how rare that is."

"That's me. Freakishly rare."

She rose on her toes and kissed him. "Get your freak on, baby," she whispered.

Reid smirked, his hands snaking around her waist. "That sounds like you're not too keen on getting to this wedding on time."

She made a frustrated little noise. "Oh, I suppose we ought to go."

They were in the Wayne Hotel, a historic old edifice in the Main Line neighborhood of the western Philadelphia suburbs. Hobart's wedding was being held at Haverford College, his alma mater. The night before, Reid and Emily had attended the rehearsal dinner with the immediate family. It had been probably the swankiest meal of Reid's life. Emily's attention had been dominated by her relatives, so Reid had ended up talking mostly to Mack, Hobart's college roommate and best man, who was a mathematician at UNC-Chapel Hill. Many napkins had been covered with scrawled equations and half-explained proofs.

The fact of the wedding itself had been pretty unexpected. A month ago, Emily had received an invitation, which had left her quite speechless with surprise. She hadn't even known Hobart was seeing anyone. Reid had been surprised for another reason that he hadn't voiced: he was about 98% certain that Hobart was gay. He didn't give off any of the stereotypical indicators, but Reid thought that the three separate occasions that he'd caught Hobart staring at his ass were pretty persuasive. But it wasn't for him to decry his oddly sudden engagement, to a woman Hobart had known since college.

"What were your impressions of the bride?" Emily asked, putting in her earrings.

"Upwardly mobile. Intelligent. Completely hung up on Hobart and has been for years, but had given up any hope of ever having a relationship with him."

"And now she's marrying him. Convenient."

"It does mean that if he found himself in sudden need of a bride, she'd have been likely to respond quickly to his overtures."

"Why would he be in sudden need of a bride?"

"Perhaps your grandparents are putting pressure on him to continue the family name."

"He isn't the only grandchild with the last name Hofstedter," she said. "My mother has three brothers and they have four sons between them." She arched her eyebrow. "What aren't you saying?"

Reid sighed. "If you'd asked me after I met him, I'd have guessed that H is gay."

Emily nodded. "I'd had my suspicions, too. I saw him eyeing your ass at Easter, and you're not the first."

"He could be bisexual, and has decided to marry a woman."

"This is all happening so fast, I don't know what to think. Part of me wants to corner him and demand the truth, but I can't do that to him."

"Do what? Question him before he makes what could be a huge mistake? And what about this poor woman he's marrying? If he's doing it to escape family ostracization for his sexual orientation, that's hardly fair to her."

She sighed. "You're right. I'll try to get him alone before the ceremony. I should have called him weeks ago, as soon as I got that invitation."

"We've hardly had time to breathe since then." This was true. They'd been on the road more than usual the past month. Reid was amazed they'd actually been able to get away for the wedding. He picked up her wrap and draped it around her shoulders. "Ready to go?"

She nodded. "You really do look handsome," she said, smiling up at him. "I better keep an eye on you lest one of the bridesmaids try to steal you away."

"Let them try. My girlfriend's packing heat."

* * *

The wedding and reception were both being held in Founder's Hall, the central building on Haverford's campus, situated on a broad green law surrounded by collegiate buildings. Cocktails were being served on the wide porch before the ceremony. Reid and Emily stood a bit apart from everyone else, Emily fidgeting with nervousness to speak to Hobart. "There's Mack," he murmured, nodding. "He'll know where H is. Now's your chance."

She took a deep breath. "Okay, here goes." She squeezed his hand and headed off. Reid watched her speak to Mack, then they both headed inside the hall.

Almost the moment Emily was out of view, two women in their thirties suddenly appeared next to him. "Hello," one of them said. She had red hair and was wearing a white dress. Even Reid knew that was poor form at a wedding.

"Hello," he said, mildly.

"Who do you belong to?" the other one asked. She had long, straight black hair and a small tattoo peeking out of her décolletage.

"If you're speaking metaphorically, and I assume that you are, I'm here with Emily Prentiss."

"Hmm. Don't think I know her. We're friends of Lindsay."

Reid glanced from one to the other. _Geez, I thought Emily was exaggerating about the bridesmaids trying to make off with me. These two aren't bridesmaids, but the rest applies._ "Emily is Hobart's cousin."

"Oh, is she the FBI agent?"

"Yes, she is. And so am I."

They both slithered a little closer upon hearing that, the neck-baring and hair-flipping jacking up a notch. "So you're just a co-worker? Squiring her for the day?"

Reid put on his blandest, most insincere smile and let that question go by. "Is there something you wanted?" he asked.

"Actually," Tattoo said, leaning into his personal space. "I was going to say that you are absolutely delicious."

Reid arched an eyebrow. "Are you kidding me?"

Tattoo backed off a little. "What?"

"You're seriously walking up to a total stranger at a wedding, knowing that he is there with another woman, and telling him that he's…delicious?" They were looking at each other in confusion. "Are you that desperate to have your attractiveness validated? Fine, let me help. You're both very attractive. You could ease up on the eyeshadow a little, and you dress too young. But you're both attractive. Now, will you leave me alone?" He sipped his drink.

Redhead and Tattoo linked arms and departed, heads held high, a haughty set to their shoulders. Emily, returning to him, watched them go. "Breaking hearts, Dr. Reid?"

"Some women are scary."

She plucked his drink from his hand and took a swig. "Well, I'm ready for this wedding to be over."

"Did you talk to Hobart?"

"Briefly. I barely got three words out before he launched into a very well-rehearsed speech about how he's always loved Lindsay and he knows what I probably think and it's all just a misconception and blah blah blah. He was prepared for someone to challenge him. I bet he guessed it would be me."

"So, that's it?"

She sighed. "Sometimes you have to let people make their own mistakes. But what do I know? Maybe they'll be very happy."

"Until she catches him with the pool boy."

Emily smirked. "Some women might enjoy that."

"I doubt that Lindsay is one of them."

"Oh, I wouldn't be so sure. That preppy pearl-wearing exterior may hide a smoldering gay porn aficionado." She glanced at him. "But I wouldn't bet the ranch."

* * *

After the ceremony, the guests were shooed out of Founder's Hall to the lawn for hors d'oeuvres while the hall was reset for the reception. Within an hour they were back inside, seated at a table with Elizabeth and some of Emily's other family, and dinner was being served. By the time dessert was in front of them, Reid realized that he was starting to feel comfortable with Emily's family. He had none of his own save his mother, and Emily's extended clan was something new to him. It seemed to have its ups and downs. More people to pressure you and have expectations, but also more people to buck you up and talk you down.

They sat and listened to the speeches. Lindsay's sister, Lindsay's father, and then Mack, Hobart's best man, who Reid had talked with at the rehearsal dinner. Hobart didn't look at him as he spoke, his voice choking up now and them. He talked about his wishes for Hobart's happiness, about Hobart's superlative character and how he deserved to have someone special, but he never mentioned Lindsay by name. Reid and Emily exchanged a glance. All was becoming clear.

Dancing, music, drinks. Emily was batted from person to person, everyone wanting an update on her life, everyone wanting a good look at Spencer. Those who hadn't been at Robert's funeral had heard about him by now and wanted to see for themselves. He shook hands, gave his brief introduction, exchanged pleasantries, and listened to his own head pound as the headache he'd had since the ceremony got worse.

"We'll leave after the cake-cutting," Emily murmured to him during a brief moment alone.

"Why so early?"

"Don't bullshit me. You hate this and I can see that you have a headache."

"You don't have to leave. I can get a cab."

"You think I want to be here any longer than I need to? Or that I want to stick around alone?" She looked up at him sadly. "Seeing Hobart do this…it just makes me even more glad that I have you."

"I'm pretty glad about that myself." He kissed her, his heart thudding with new certainty.

She squeezed his hand. "I love you. Really. And I think I need more booze." She headed off for the bar.

Reid scanned the crowd and finally saw Mack, standing by the cake, alone. He made his way over and joined him. "Nice cake," he said, just for something to say.

Mack nodded. "Very nice." He looked at Reid, his expression mildly shell-shocked. It was the face of a man with a part to play. "Nice ceremony."

"Yes, very nice." Actually, Reid had found it pretty ghastly. He had never understood the need for excessive pageantry at weddings. Seemed like a waste of time and resources to him. "Your speech was…touching."

"Thanks," Mack said, sounding distracted.

"How long have you been in love with Hobart?"

For a moment, the man didn't even react. He just kept staring at the cake. "You ever love someone who didn't love you back?"

"Yes."

"It sucks, right?"

"It's unpleasant and painful."

"It's a thousand times worse when the person does love you back, but won't do anything about it." He lifted his eyes to Reid's, and the sharpness of the pain he saw there almost knocked him back a step. "How long, you asked. Off and on since college."

Reid almost let his jaw fall open. "That's more than twenty years."

"You're not kidding." He could see Reid's astonishment. "I know. How could we? I ask myself that question every day." Mack looked past Reid to where Hobart and his new bride were talking with their guests. "You seem like a good guy, Dr. Reid," Mack said. "You mind some friendly advice?"

"Okay."

"Don't let anything come between you and the person you love. Nothing else is worth more than that." He sighed, and walked away.

Reid looked out toward the dance floor. Emily was talking to someone Reid couldn't identify, they had their back to him. She was smiling and gesturing; she looked so animated, so beautiful. She caught his eye and gave him a little wave. He waved back.

He hadn't known it was possible to love someone the way he loved her. She was everything to him, and he would have done anything to make her happy. Everything he'd been made to believe about himself was a lie, and she had taught him that. As he watched Emily move through the crowd, Spencer Reid knew that he was looking at the woman he wanted to marry.


	12. Chapter 12

_six weeks later_

_

* * *

_

"Well," Emily said with a sigh, looking over her mostly-cleared desk, "I think I'm ready to head out."

Reid nodded. "I'm going to stick around for awhile. I have some work to finish."

"Yeah?" she said, sounding a little disappointed.

He looked up at her. "I won't be long."

"But you are coming home tonight, right?" At some point in the last few months, Emily's condo had just become "home." Reid's own apartment was feeling less and less like home, and his possessions had started to migrate to her place a little at a time. He was trying to keep the diaspora to a minimum seeing as in a short time he'd be moving into his new house. Hopefully, not alone.

"Oh, yeah. I have to call Rollie."

Emily made a face. "Tell him to get off his ass and finish that damn house."

Reid schooled his expression. He'd been misleading Emily about the degree to which his house was finished, because he wanted to surprise her. In fact, it was very close to being done and would be so within two weeks. "I'll pass that along," he said.

She put on her coat, then came around to his side of the desk. She glanced around. The bullpen was nearly deserted; it was almost seven o'clock. Hotch was still in his office and Anderson was puttering around the coffeepot, but that was it. She leaned over and kissed him. "I'll wait up for you," she said, giving him sexy-eye.

"That's a good reason to hurry home," he said, smiling.

She waved good-bye and left the bullpen. Reid looked up at Hotch's office. That was the real reason he was lingering. He had to talk to Hotch.

"Did she just kiss you?" said a voice.

Reid looked up at Anderson, standing nearby with an amazed look on his face. "Yes."

"Why?" Anderson looked like he'd been walloped upside the head.

Reid blinked. "I thought everyone knew by now."

"Knew what?"

"That, uh…me and Prentiss…you know…"

"Really? No shit?"

Reid smirked. "No shit."

"How long?"

"Nine months, six days. I'm surprised you hadn't heard. Seems to have been the hot gossip item the past few months."

"Wow. Yeah, probably everyone thought I knew, so no one told me. Story of my life." He turned an appraising glance at Reid. "Well, way to go, Dr. Reid." He clapped Reid on the shoulder, then headed out.

Reid looked up at Hotch's office, the door partway open. He could see Hotch at his desk. He took a deep breath, got up and went to the door and knocked.

Hotch looked up. "What are you still doing here?"

"Can I talk to you?"

Hotch nodded. "Come in." Reid entered and shut the door behind him. He sat down on Hotch's sofa. Hotch came out from behind his desk and joined him. "Is something wrong?"

"No. I just – this isn't about work, it's personal. I hope you don't mind talking. I feel like I need some advice."

"Advice about what?"

Reid met his eyes. "I want to ask Emily to marry me."

Hotch went very still. "Oh?" The single syllable was uttered with more neutrality than Reid would have thought the human voice capable of conveying.

"You think it's a bad idea."

"I didn't say that. I'm a little surprised you're considering such a step now."

"We haven't been together that long. Nine months. How do I know if it's the right time?"

"I don't know. I don't think you can know. It's just something you – feel."

Reid sniffed. "I'm not used to making decisions based on that criteria. And I don't think I've ever made a decision this momentous."

"What about joining the BAU?"

"Gideon made that seem like a foregone conclusion."

"When you had your mother committed?"

"That was out of necessity. This is something I want, not something I can't avoid."

Hotch cocked his head, watching Reid's face. "What is it that you want?"

Reid sighed. "I want what we have to last forever. I want to be with her for the rest of my life. I want us to be – an_us._"

Hotch nodded. "Sounds like marriage to me."

"What do you think? Should I ask her?"

"I can't answer that, Reid. I can't see into your relationship. You two are so professional at work. I really don't have much of a sense of what you're like together. I do know that you both seem happy." Reid nodded. "Reid – why are you asking me for advice? It sounds like you have all the information you need."

"I guess I just needed you to tell me if I was crazy."

A tiny smile appeared on Hotch's lips. "I was crazy like that once. I never regretted it. Marriage is hard, Reid. It can be too hard sometimes. It ended up being too hard for us. But it's also fulfilling, like I never expected it to be. Do you think she'll say yes?"

"I honestly don't know. We've never talked about it. We haven't even talked about moving in together."

"Sometimes you just have to put it out there and jump off the cliff."

Reid frowned. "That's a mixed metaphor."

That got an actual grin out of Hotch. "I think you get my meaning."

* * *

Reid pulled up to the house. All was quiet. Eerily quiet. He was used to driving up and seeing trucks and men, and hearing bangs and rasps and shouts. The lawn was sodded. The exterior was gleaming. The porch light was lit. And in his hand, he held a key. The key to this amazing house, which Rollie had presented him after their final walk-through the day before. "This house is something special," Rollie had said, and Reid was amazed to see the big man getting actually choked up. "We took this broken-down old campaigner and made it gleam. It's such a funny little freak. I'm so glad it's getting some love, Dr. Reid."

Reid had smiled. Rollie might as well have been talking about him.

In his other hand, Reid was holding a ring box. Inside was the ring that he hoped to put on Emily's finger the following night. He'd wondered if he was making the right decision, but in his heart he had no doubts. He was only asking questions because he thought he should. Only ten months ago he and Emily had kissed for the first time in that Minnesota hotel room – sometimes he felt like he ought to send Roy Niedermeier a thank-you note – and now he was contemplating marriage? It was insane. Crazy fast. Way too soon.

Except it wasn't, or it didn't feel like it. JJ hadn't seemed to think he was crazy when he'd showed her the ring.

The ring. Walking into that jewelry store had taken some intestinal fortitude. He'd been tempted to ask Morgan or Garcia to go with him, but decided against it. He'd make his own decision, he didn't need anybody to hand-hold him. And he didn't want to clue them in about what he was planning to ask Emily.

_You're going to ask her to spend the rest of her life with you. You, the awkward genius who looks like a stiff breeze could blow him over. She could do better._

But that was her call. She'd told him more than once that he was the best thing that had ever happened to her. Did he think she was a liar? She gave no sign of exaggerating. She meant it when she said that she loved him. He owed her the respect of believing her.

That didn't make it easier to walk into the jewelry store, though. The saleslady had homed in on him like a heat-seeking missile. "Good afternoon," she said, all professionalism and customer-service warmth and perfectly coiffed hair. "What can I help you find?" she'd asked, knowing full well what it was he was there to buy.

"An engagement ring," he'd said.

"Wonderful. Congratulations!"

"Thank you."

"Let me show you to our engagement rings," she'd said, leading him to a display of traditional diamond solitaires.

"I want something less traditional," he'd said. "My girlfriend likes moonstones."

"Moonstones?" she'd repeated. Reid had watched her dreams of hefty commissions go swirling away behind her eyes, but she'd kept up a good front. "That is nontraditional."

She'd cheered up when he'd said he wanted platinum, with diamonds in the setting. In the end he'd found just the right ring. A ring which was now burning a hole in his pocket.

_Tomorrow. You'll ask her tomorrow._

It would be damn hard to sit across from her all day, knowing that for their already-scheduled date (they still tried to schedule dates with each other despite their near-constant presence in each other's lives) he'd be bringing her here, showing her this house, and asking her to be his wife.

_Wife. You might have a wife. A beautiful, amazing, kick-ass wife._

_Take that, Alexa Lisbon._

He took his time going up the front sidewalk to his house, taking it all in. It was so perfect. It was something Edward Gorey would have drawn. It was something Ed Wood would have lived in. It was something Shirley Jackson would have written about. He just hoped that whatever walked here, wouldn't walk alone.

He opened the front door. The period-accurate mosaic tile in the floor was every bit as fitting as Rollie had promised. The paneled wainscoting, which ran through the whole house, gleamed with fresh polish that Reid could smell. The battered hardwood floors, saved only through extraordinary effort on the part of Rollie's crew, displayed years of traffic and wear from the shoes of library patrons, and Reid loved that. The wood shone in perfectly restored glory, the light angling off its indentations and imperfections.

He walked through the first floor. To the left was the front living room. The original stonework fireplace was still there, rebuilt and resealed. The library's bookshelves along the far wall were in their original places; others had been moved to new locations throughout the house. From the living room Reid went into the den. Smaller and cozier, this was where the electronics were, concealed inside a cabinet cleverly built by one of Rollie's finish carpenters to match the original woodwork. You'd never guess it was new. And then – the library. Reid grinned like a schoolboy, turning in a circle. This room was his fantasy. Since he'd been a little kid, he'd wanted a library in his house, and here it was. Every wall lined with eight-foot bookshelves, scavenged from the old library's original fixtures. The rear wall had three shelves jutting out at right angles for more storage space. The ceilings in here were twelve feet; Rollie had built more shelving above and installed a rolling ladder along one wall. In one corner was a wrought-iron spiral staircase that led to the room above, which Reid planned to use as a study.

And this was the only room that already had furniture ready to move in. Three pieces were waiting at the refinisher's shop. The first was a long, polished library table, which would be flanked on either side by two desks. One was a heavy mahogany monstrosity that had once been used by the head librarian. The other was a more contemporary, Dutch mid-century modern desk Rollie had found in the attic and had refinished. The mishmash of styles was exactly right. Reid planned to add two armchairs as well, an Eames for him and whatever Emily wanted for herself. This was the biggest room on the first floor, appropriately.

Reid looked up at the stained-glass windows and wondered how he'd come to own such a place.

He kept going. From the library he went into the back hallway, a sort of mudroom that led to the rear patio, and then into the kitchen. This had been the room they'd nearly gutted, to modernize the utilities, but it had been in a corner of the building without much character to begin with; in the old library it had been a storage room and washroom. The floor was concrete, which had been a suggestion of Rollie's that Reid had doubted for a long time, but he had to admit it looked great. It didn't look like a garage floor, which had been his fear. It gleamed with epoxy sealant and had been stained with a marbled gray pattern so it resembled a single slab of stone.

From there into the dining room, empty and awaiting a table, and then back to the front hall. Upstairs were four bedrooms, the study, and three bathrooms to add to the one bathroom down here.

_All those empty bedrooms. If she says yes, you know what she'll see when she looks at them. Kids' rooms._

Reid shut his eyes. He wasn't thinking about that, oh no, he was not. He and Emily had never talked about having children, even in a general sense not connected to their own relationship. His fear was that she'd want them – well, scratch that. He knew she wanted them. His fear was that it would be a deal breaker for her that he didn't.

_Later. That's for later._

He stood in the foyer and got out the ring so he could look at it, as he'd done at least a dozen times since buying it. He imagined it on Emily's finger. He imagined putting another one in its place, and hearing her say "I do."

It was kind of blowing his mind.

He turned in a circle, looking around at the house. It was finally done. And miracle of miracles, Rollie had brought it in fifteen thousand dollars under budget. Morgan's willingness to swing a hammer and recruit his house-flipping buddies to paint and hang drywall had saved Reid a chunk of change. He'd even gotten a little dirty himself, and was now qualified to lay bathroom tile – with supervision.

Nearly a year he'd worked toward this moment. This house, from the first moment he'd seen it, had felt like it could be home. The next night, he'd give Emily a ring, and then he'd give her this house. He just hoped she accepted.

* * *

_Emily Prentiss looked down into his face, his dear, sweet face, and braced herself to break his heart, to say nothing of her own._

__

"Yes," she heard herself say.

What'd I just say?

__

He blinked, his mouth falling open a little like he wasn't quite sure he'd heard her correctly. "You will?" he asked.

_Emily's voices of dissent were silent. _Oh, hell. I've waited all my life to feel this way about somebody, and now that I do, I'm going to let him go because he's younger? Or because we work together? I don't think so._ She nodded, tears filling her eyes at the idea, barely allowed into her mind until now, of spending the rest of her life with this man. "Yes."_

_-How to Fight Loneliness, Chapter 11_

_

* * *

_

Emily pulled Reid up the stairs. It was slow going, as they kept pausing to kiss each other, Emily's new engagement ring sparkling on her finger. "I want to see our bedroom," she murmured into his ear as they emerged into the second-floor hallway.

_Our bedroom. I like the sound of that._ "To the right."

She pushed open the door and Reid flicked on the light. Emily gasped. "Oh, my God."

Just the reaction he'd been hoping for. The room was pretty spectacular. Rollie had knocked out the attic above, opening the ceiling into one of the gables on the side of the house. The rear wall featured a picture window that was black now, but in daylight looked onto the park that backed onto the yard and the DC skyline beyond. There was no wainscoting here, but ornate crown molding had been hung and built-in cabinetry and shelves lined the room with wall space left for the bed and furniture. "Want to see your closet?" he said.

She looked at him. "I have a closet?"

"Here," he said, leading her to the corner. "That's the bathroom."

She pushed past him. "Ooh, a whirlpool. You do know what I like."

"And here's the closet." He'd made sure it was big enough for both of them. She wasn't a particular clothes horse, but he did have rather an embarrassing number of sweaters. He suspected they might have to go into one of the guest room closets lest they take over the world.

"Damn," she said. "This is all built-in."

"Rollie was very keen that all the woodwork look original."

"It's all so…I don't know what to say," she said. She looked down at her left hand. "But this is the best thing of all." She came back into his arms and kissed him. Reid had wondered if she was serious about christening their bedroom, and it sure felt like she was.

She pulled him back into the bedroom and they fell against the wall. He pressed her up against it and lifted her thighs around his hips, her feet leaving the floor. "I want you, right here," he murmured.

She nodded, her hands clutching his hair. "God, yes." She lowered her legs so they could get at each other's pants, their mouths never parting. "Spencer," she panted, shoving her hand down his pants to stroke his cock. "I need you inside me."

He shoved her pants down and she stepped out of them, then hung onto his shoulders as he lifted her again, her back braced against the wall. He stepped between her legs and they fit themselves together, sighing as their bodies joined as they'd now done one hundred eighty-nine times before – but this was special. He wasn't having sex with his girlfriend anymore, he was making love to his fiancée. Her head thumped back against the wall as she rocked against him, gasping, her neck arching against his mouth as they rode each other hard, hanging on, his feet braced so her weight rested on the tops of his thighs.

She grabbed his face and kissed him hard, her ankles crossing behind his ass. He was using muscle groups that didn't get much play ordinarily, but he didn't feel the strain. All he felt was her, all around him, taking up the whole world and all the space he occupied like they'd interlaced their atoms. "Baby," she murmured into his mouth. "I'm gonna…oh, God I'm…" She didn't finish the sentence, but then she didn't need to. He felt her go, her fingertips digging into his shoulder blades as she shuddered, her lips grabbing at his, teeth nipping at his lips. His fingers were splayed out on her ass, holding her in place as he finished with a groan, burying his face in her neck, feeling her stroking his hair, both of them twitching and breathing hard.

She laughed softly, low and throaty. "Who needs furniture?" she chuckled.

* * *

They found a couple of foam moving pads that had been used to transport appliances and stacked them on the bedroom floor. It was better than nothing. They lay side by side, facing each other, not talking much. The change was palpable. Reid knew he could feel it and he was pretty sure she could, too. Just knowing what they were going to be to each other, that this was permanent now, made him look at her a little differently. Not just a woman he loved and spent time with, but a woman he'd chosen as the partner of his future.

Emily was looking at his face like she'd never seen him before. One finger traced his lips, circling them with a feather-light touch that almost tickled. "You're going to be my husband," she said, like she was testing how the word sounded coming out of her own mouth.

He smiled. "Buyer's remorse?"

She shook her head. "No." She hesitated, clearly debating something in her head. "I almost said no," she whispered, looking concerned, perhaps that this might upset him.

"Why?"

"Boring reasons. Things we haven't talked about, things at work, things that sound practical but mean nothing."

"So why'd you say yes?"

She sighed. "Because when I think about the future I see you there. I want you there, always. That's the only thing I know for sure about that future."

He touched her face, brushing the backs of his fingers across her cheek. Her eyes closed when he touched her. "We have a lot to talk about now."

She nodded. "I know. Like when, and where, and how, and a million other things. I don't even know where to start."

"I do. Let's start by moving in here, both of us. The house is ready, we can move in whenever you want."

She smiled. "I don't think we'll be able to find movers at this hour."

He grinned. "I'm glad you're excited about it."

"Excited? I can't wait. And not just to live in this house, amazing as it is," she hastened to add. "But to live somewhere that's ours, and to live with you."

"Well, we'll have to make do with your furniture for the time being. Most of mine isn't worth moving."

"Tomorrow let's start moving the books over, yours and mine. We can work on that ourselves until we can get movers for my furniture. I don't have a table big enough for that dining room, though. We'll have to go get one."

"There's furniture for the library at the refinisher's shop. I'll call to have it brought here tomorrow."

"Oh, God, let's worry about it in the morning."

"We're not going to actually sleep here, are we?"

"You don't want to?"

"Not until there's a bed. I don't think either of us would wake up very refreshed after sleeping on these pads."

"Yeah, you're probably right." She heaved a sigh and got up, extending a hand to pull him off the floor. "Let's go back to my place and get a good night's sleep. We have a long day of book hauling ahead of us."

* * *

By four o'clock the next day, Reid was exhausted. They'd gotten almost all the books moved into the new library. His had already been packed, for the most part; after all, he'd known he was moving. So they'd packed up her books together and made many trips back and forth from her place and his, hauling boxes. They could have called the team for help, but somehow they both knew that it wasn't time for them to know everything yet.

Reid had come back to his own apartment to keep packing his other belongings while Emily stayed at the house and kept working there. He had to be out of his place in the next week, so while they were moving stuff it made sense to move as much of his stuff as possible.

They'd get movers for Emily's furniture, but they had managed the bed on their own, borrowing her neighbor's pickup truck for long enough to transport the bed frame, box spring and mattress. After reassembling it, they'd stood back and looked at each other, amused. It was a queen-sized bed, but it looked absurdly small in the large room.

Reid had cleared his throat. "We're gonna need a bigger bed," he'd said. Emily had snorted laughter, smacked his arm, and they'd gotten back to work.

Now, he was working on the sweaters. He'd gotten boxes from his favorite bookstore and so far had filled fourteen of them. "Why the hell do I have so many sweaters?" he muttered to himself. He carted two more boxes down to his car, all that it would hold, and climbed in for the drive to the house for what felt like the hundredth time.

The minute he walked in the door, carrying two sweater boxes, he heard quick footsteps. He dropped the boxes just in time for Emily to fling herself at him. "Um…hi," he said, confused but grinning.

"My desk! I love my desk! It's amazing!" she said, peppering his cheek with kisses.

"Oh, the library furniture's here?" he said, excited. "Lemme see!" They raced each other back to the library. The oak table glowed with a warm sheen. His mahogany desk looked like the prow of a ship. Her blondwood desk was elegant and modern. "Wow, it looks amazing!"

"Mine doesn't really go with the room, but I love it!" she said.

Reid barely heard her. He was staring around at the shelves. "I thought…I thought you were going to organize the kitchen," he said, trying not to sound too horrified.

"I was, but then the guys brought the furniture for in here and I wanted to be around, so I just started organizing the books."

She'd unpacked at least ten boxes and had started some kind of system of organization. Reid blinked hard, his fingers twitching. "Oh, uh…great."

She moved around the room, doing her spokesmodel thing as she described her plan. "Here will be psychology. Hard science here. History here. These shelves are big enough for art books, and I thought this whole wall could be fiction, and you look like you're about to have a stroke, Reid."

"No, it's just…I, uh…I have a system. But this is fine! Really…it's fine…" He swallowed hard.

"It's not fine, you – my God, you're actually _pale._ Is the idea of me organizing your books so horrifying?" She put her hands on her hips.

Reid shut his eyes for a moment. _Remember what's important. The books aren't important. She's important._ "No, I'm glad you're taking care of it and I love you very much." He smiled.

Emily stared at him for a moment, then burst out laughing. "Oh, Spencer. You should see your face. That is the fakest smile I've ever seen on it, and there've been some very fake ones over the years." She came up to him and took his hands. "It doesn't matter to me how the books are organized. I just wanted them out of the boxes in some kind of order. If you have a system, let's use it."

Relief flooded him. "Really?"

"Yes!"

"I use the Dewey Decimal system."

Emily frowned. "But…none of these books have Dewey numbers on them. How do you…" Reid looked at the ground, self-conscious. "Oh. You have the Dewey Decimal system memorized, don't you?"

"I know, I'm a freak."

"You are, but you're my freak. All this means is that you're going to have to organize all these books yourself."

"Okay," he said, having been wanting nothing more than to do just that.

"Can my books be incorporated into your system?"

"Sure. The Library of Congress codes in the frontispiece tell me whatever I need to know."

She shook her head, bemused. "Oh, honey." She just patted his chest, chuckling to herself, as she headed out of the room, leaving him to his task.


	13. Chapter 13

They ordered pizza and ate it on the patio in the warm glow of the setting sun, perching on the edge of the deck because there was no other furniture yet. Emily had the foresight to stash a six-pack in the fridge, so there was cold beer as well.

Emily sat with her back against the railing, her knees drawn up, watching him eat three-quarters of the pizza. "I swear, I don't know where you put it. Maybe your brain burns twice as many calories as the rest of ours."

"There's no evidence that intelligence has any affect on the metabolism."

"I was being facetious, Reid."

"I know. I was being ironic."

She shifted, crossing her legs under her. "There's some practical stuff we ought to talk about."

"Like what?"

"Like everything. I can't just move my stuff in here and then go on like nothing's changed."

"You can't? I mean, I know you can't. But what, specifically, do you mean?"

"We ought to change our wills and our life insurance beneficiaries right away. Monday morning, first thing. And I'll call my lawyer about drawing up some power of attorney documents."

"Is it really that urgent? Once we're married it'll…"

"And when will that be? We haven't even talked about a date. It could be awhile, and if one of us is killed in the line or hit by a bus or something before we have automatic rights to each other, we ought to have our bases covered. I don't want you denied hospital visitation. I want you to be able to make decisions for me if I can't."

Reid put aside his plate and propped his feet on the edge of the patio step, wrapping his arms around his knees. "I don't like to think about that."

"I don't like it either, but we have to. This is the business part of a permanent relationship. There's paperwork involved in becoming official."

Her phraseology amused him for some reason. "Is that what we're doing? Becoming official?"

"That's not all we're doing. We're becoming visible, too. Someone at the Bureau's going to notice that we've both changed our addresses to the same one. And they're sure going to notice when we both move to the same health insurance policy and become each other's next of kin."

He sighed. "Looks like the era of plausible deniability is over." He looked at her. "Let's talk to JJ about it. She might have some insight about how to handle it."

"I think we should tell her, Morgan and Garcia first. Just them, without Hotch or Rossi."

"Hotch knows I was planning to propose, and so does JJ."

"It's one thing to know you planned it and another thing to know I said yes. Once Hotch and Rossi know, they're going to have to tell Strauss, and then…" She sighed. "But that's a bigger discussion. We've got other things to work out first."

He let himself fall back onto the patio, crossing his arms over his eyes. He knew she was right, these things had to be talked about. But it just wasn't anyone's fantasy about moving in with the person they loved to spend their first evening together talking about wills and health insurance. "Okay."

"Spencer, you think I'm having tons of fun with this stuff? We might as well get it out of the way so we can enjoy this house and each other." She harrumphed with some significance. "Especially each other."

He let his arms fall away and looked over at her. "Are you bribing me with sex?"

"No, I'm just pointing out that the sooner we hash out all these unsexy details, the sooner we can get to the sexy ones."

He sat up and mirrored her posture, legs crossed beneath him. "All right, I'm on board."

"Money."

For a moment, he was utterly confused. "You need some cash? I think I have twenty bucks in my wallet…"

"No, we have to talk about how we're going to handle money. Do you have any ideas about that?"

"I hadn't given it much thought."

"I think it's important for each of us to maintain some financial independence. What do you think?"

"That sounds logical, I guess."

"Okay. Here's what I propose. Each payday we deposit half our paychecks into a joint account. From that account we pay the household expenses. Utilities, cable, homeowner's insurance, property taxes. Any joint credit cards or anything like that. The other half we keep in our individual accounts so we can pay for our own clothes and credit cards and such. We can alternate buying groceries or just use the joint account."

Reid nodded, impressed by how much she'd already thought this out. "That sounds very logical." It also sounded smart. He'd heard of couples having arguments over how much the wife spent on shoes or how much the husband spent on golf. If he and Emily still had their own money, it wouldn't matter to him if she bought eighty dollar perfume or if he spent a hundred bucks at the rare book store.

"I just have one condition."

"What?"

"I want to help pay for Bennington. I want you to pay for your mother's care out of our joint account."

Reid took that in for a moment. His first reaction was shame, followed by guilt, quickly overtaken by amazement that she was suggesting it. "No. I can't let you do that."

"Yes, you can, and you will. I should help. I want to. She'll be my mother too, pretty soon." She reached out and put her hand on his arm. "I'm going to be your wife, Spencer. That means a lot of things, but one thing it definitely means is that I share your burdens. I need to be sharing this responsibility with you." She blinked hard, then picked up his hand and kissed his knuckles. "I'm going to be your wife," she repeated, much more softly, as if she were just marveling at the concept. She pressed her cheek to his hand.

He got up and slid close to her so he could pull her against him. She tucked her face into his neck and took a couple of deep breaths. "You okay?" he whispered. Her fingers were clenching at his shirt.

She nodded. "Yeah. It's just that every so often it hits me. We're really doing this." She drew back and looked up at him in the rapidly-fading light. "Enough practical talk for one evening. Let's go upstairs and enjoy the fact that we don't share walls with anybody."

* * *

They made love in Emily's bed, which felt strange and different sitting alone in the middle of their new master bedroom. There was a slight echo effect from the empty shelves and bare walls that sent back to their ears each gasp, each groan and each cry they wrested from each other.

Her body and her love were the only heaven Reid had ever believed in, and this night that heaven was his again, and would be forever, in this house that was now theirs. They moved against each other in slow, sensual ebbs and flows, washing over each other like the tide coming in, warm breath and damp skin, the cool air in the bedroom a sharp contrast to the heat of her all around him, her legs wrapped around him and her hands all over him. Her half-lidded eyes as she looked up at him, her hair spread on the pillow – everything he saw was thankfully stored away so he could savor it later when he couldn't just reach out and touch the graceful arch of her neck as he could now, when he couldn't bend and kiss her breasts, when he wasn't here to worship her with his hands and his lips but only with his mind.

When her body heaved and arced off the bed as she came it was primitive, and when he spent himself inside her it felt sacred, like they were consummating something unspoken tonight. They collapsed in a heap, still twined around each other. He felt Emily's fingers combing through the damp hair at the base of his neck, then her lips press to his throat. "Baby," she whispered.

"Mmmm?" He was still a little nonverbal.

"How did we go so long without this?" she said, the words sibilant and breathy.

He rolled to his back, pulling her with him and drawing the covers around them. She shifted to a comfortable position, her head on his chest. "We didn't know any better."

She snuggled close, making adorable little growly noises, her hands playing over his chest and sides. "I love you," she said, kissing his neck.

He smiled, sighing happily. "I love you, too."

"I hope you're not getting tired of hearing it."

"Impossible."

"Or of saying it."

"It would take a lot more than two hundred and thirty-six times to get tired of saying it."

She lifted her head and looked down at him. "Is that how many times you've said it?"

"No. It's how many times either of us has said it, including the two we just said."

Emily stared at him for a moment, then laughed ruefully. "You. I can't believe you sometimes. You've been _keeping count?_"

"It's my brain. It makes its own fun."

"Well…two thirty seven," she said, smiling.

He kissed her softly. "Two thirty eight."

* * *

Reid stretched and turned his face toward the morning sunlight. It took him a moment to remember that he was in his own home, his new home, in this big empty bedroom. He turned his head and smiled, seeing Emily's mussed hair poking out from underneath the covers.

He eased out of bed and pulled on his flannel pants and a t-shirt. Neither of them had unpacked many clothes, and suitcases and boxes were scattered about. He hated the disarray, but knew it was temporary. He glanced back at Emily, still sleeping peacefully.

Reid went down to the kitchen to start the coffee and see what he could scrape together for breakfast. He'd made sure his coffeepot had made it over from his old place and was installed on the countertop. They might not have chairs or dishes or food yet, but they had coffee.

He looked around at the kitchen while the coffee brewed, still amazed that this was his house…_their_ house.

_I'm engaged to Emily. Emily is engaged to me. Emily and I are engaged. As in, going to be married._

__

When will we do it? Where? How? Oh God, is Elizabeth going to want to put on some huge society spectacle? Emily won't want that. She won't let her mother steamroll over us, she'll stand up for what we want.

Super. Now we just have to figure out what it is that we want.

_We. We want. Not she wants, or I want, but what we want. Everything from now on will be a "we." Our life. Our home. Our money. Our future._

He was jolted out of his thoughts by the sound of footsteps padding down the stairs. Emily shuffled into the kitchen, her face slack with lingering sleep, clutching her old, too-large pilled-up gray cardigan around her. She smiled and kept shuffling over to him. "Morning, roomie," she muttered.

"Good morning."

"Coffee?" she said, hopefully, peering around him at the percolator.

"Few minutes."

She nodded and leaned against the counter, stretching as a big yawn split her face nearly in two. Reid smiled. He found her almost impossibly cute in the mornings, when she was rumpled and sleepy. She reverted to a near-childlike state of bleariness until coffee and showers had woken her all the way up and she became the competent, no-nonsense Emily he knew and loved. She angled her head into the light coming in the kitchen windows. "Mmm. Sunshine feels nice." She turned and leaned against his chest, rubbing her face over his t-shirt. "You feel nice, too."

He chuckled and patted the back of her head. "Half of you is still upstairs asleep, isn't it?"

"Mmm. More like three-quarters." She tilted her head up. "Kiss, please."

He kissed her. She frowned, apparently displeased with the quality of the kiss. He kissed her again, more slowly and more thoroughly. She kissed back, her hands tucked between their chests. "Better?" he murmured.

She nodded. "Okay, only one-quarter of me is still upstairs asleep now. Need coffee to achieve fully waking state."

He turned and saw that the coffeemaker was done. "Good timing, then." He poured a cup for her and one for himself. They looked around at the near-empty house, frowning at the lack of furniture. "I guess we stand up," he said.

Emily took a big drink, sighing. "Come on," she said, grabbing his hand. He let her pull him to the back door and outside, then down the patio to the grassy yard. She sat down in a patch of morning sunshine, cross-legged like a kid at a campfire. He sat facing her and they sipped their coffee in silence for a few minutes.

"It is vaguely ridiculous to be having morning coffee in the backyard," he finally said.

She shrugged. "I think it's nice." She was staring down at her cup, tracing one finger around the rim.

"Emily?"

"Hmm?"

"What's on your mind?"

She looked up at him, finally. "We should just get it over with."

"Get what over with?" he asked, although he knew exactly what she was referring to.

"The talk we have to have about work."

He thought about playing dumb some more, but it would just be delaying the inevitable. "Maybe if we ignore it, it'll go away," he muttered.

She shook her head. "It won't. Like I said last night. We're becoming official. Which means the FBI will find out. Strauss will find out. It's a good bet she'll want one of us to transfer off the team."

"Maybe she won't."

"Maybe not. But we need to be prepared so that if she does, we know what we're going to do." She took a deep breath and put her coffee cup down in the grass. "It should be me. I want to be the one who leaves the team."

Reid looked at her face, set and resolute. "So that's just it, huh? I don't get a say?"

"Of course you do. I'm just telling you what I think the best decision is."

"Why shouldn't I be the one to transfer out? Hell, I could leave the FBI altogether. I've got half a dozen standing teaching offers, including the Academy. I could take a job there, at least we'd still be working in the same building."

"No, Spencer. The team needs you."

"The team needs you, too."

"The team needs you more. Your skills are…unique."

"You have special skills, too."

She sighed. "Not like you do. My skills could be used in just about any other department. I've worked in other departments before, I can do it again. You've never worked anywhere but the BAU."

"You're saying I couldn't make the adjustment?"

"I'm saying there's no reason you have to."

"I won't be the reason that you have to leave the team," he said, his voice rising a little bit. "I can't have you give up your career because of me."

"I wouldn't be!" she said, sounding a little exasperated. "The BAU isn't the only career path in the Bureau."

"But it's the one you want. It's the one you worked for!"

"Yes, it is. I don't want to leave. But I want you to stay on the team more than I don't want to leave it."

He shook his head, his chest filling with helpless anger at the entire situation. "I hate that it's even an issue. We've already been working together on the team for months while having a relationship. If it hasn't impacted our work so far, why would it start now?"

"That isn't the point. We need a contingency plan."

"You leaving the team is a terrible contingency plan."

"I agree. But it's less terrible than the alternative."

"I don't understand why you're so dead set on me staying on the team! I would leave it in a second so that you didn't have to."

"Great, so we're both willing to sacrifice our position on the team so the other could stay. That's not going to get us to a decision. We have to be objective about this. Objectively, you are less easily replaced on the team than I am."

"That isn't true. Where are they going to find another profiler who speaks six languages?"

"A useful skill, but one duplicated by any interpreter. Experts on everything with eidetic memories don't just grown on trees, you know." She put her coffee cup aside and took his hand. "You are unique in a way that I am not, sweetheart." Reid looked up at her. She hardly ever called him that. "Look, one of us will have to go. I'd rather choose between us than have Strauss choose, wouldn't you?"

He sighed. "Yes."

"If all things were equal we could flip a damned coin for all I care. But all things are not equal. Your abilities are more valuable and less replaceable than mine. So it should be you who stays on the team. You'd see that in a second if your emotions weren't getting in the way."

He shook his head. "My unique abilities, sure. Once again those abilities are hurting someone I care about."

"Oh, no. Don't you dare start in with the guilt. I chose this, you know. I chose _you._ Don't act like you're inflicting yourself on me. You and me and what we have – it's the most important thing in my life."

He nodded. "Mine, too," he managed, in a hoarse whisper.

"It's more important than the BAU. That's what I do. But us – it's part of who I _am._"

"The job is part of who you are, too."

"I know. Just like it's part of who you are. But committing to each other – well, we knew there'd have to be compromises."

"You shouldn't have to be the one making the compromise."

"I'm not. I'm compromising that I'd be the one to leave the team, and you're compromising by letting me. It'll suck for both of us in different ways. That's going to have to be the price of admission."

"What if it's too high? It might not be today, but what about tomorrow? A year from now?"

"Then we'll renegotiate. Nothing's written in stone. As long as we can keep talking about it we'll be okay."

He gave her a wry half-smile. "You talk about my special abilities, but you're much smarter than me, you know?"

She grinned. "Don't you forget it." Her smile faded a little. "So we're agreed?"

"I don't like it."

"You don't have to. I don't like it, either. It's just how it is."

He put aside his coffee cup and pulled her toward him. She scooted close and put her arms around his neck. "I still hope we don't have to do this."

"Hope is fine. Hope for the best, prepare for the worst."

"I hate that there's any 'worst' here. Isn't this supposed to be a happy time for us?"

"It is. I am happy." She kissed him. "In fact, I'm kind of stupid happy."

He looked at her, a slow grin spreading. "Yeah?"

"Yeah. I'm moving into this amazing house with a guy I'm crazy about who just gave me a really nice piece of jewelry. I might even be a little – giddy."

"Wait a second, the calm and controlled Emily Prentiss is giddy?"

"As a schoolgirl."

"You don't look giddy."

"Well, I guess this is what 'giddy' looks like on me."

"Doesn't look much different than normal. How will I tell the difference?"

"My eyebrow's arched slightly differently."

"Ah." He looked up at the eyebrow in question. "I'll have to remember that."


	14. Chapter 14

_They exchanged their rings. The officiant pronounced them husband and wife. Everyone clapped as they embraced. Hotch saw JJ wipe at her eyes; even Morgan was blinking a little too rapidly. He smiled as the newlyweds kissed each other, both of them grinning widely and giggling with the buoyancy of the moment._

__

Rossi leaned in. "I'm glad we're here. This is a good thing. I'd hate to have missed it."

Hotch nodded. "Yes. It's a very good thing."

_-How to Fight Loneliness, Chapter 18_

_

* * *

_

Reid barely heard the officiant say "husband and wife" before Emily was kissing him. People were clapping. He was in a daze. He just kissed her back because it seemed like the best thing to do, and it was the only thing he wanted to do. She beamed at him, laughing, their noses brushing together. "We did it," she whispered.

He nodded. "Wife."

"Husband." She kissed him again. He couldn't stop grinning.

They turned toward their friends and family, who were descending upon them, arms outstretched and faces joyful. Emily hugged JJ, and then Morgan was shaking Reid's hand and hugging him. "Congratulations, kid," he said, sounding a little gruffer than usual, perhaps to cover his slightly damp eyes.

"Thanks, Morgan."

Then Hotch and Rossi were there, and Garcia was crying and Emily's mother was hugging them and Hobart was shaking his hand. He saw his mother hanging back, looking a little uncertain. He took Emily's hand and they went to her. She had her hands clasped under her chin, smiling at him. He gingerly put his arms around her; they weren't generally much for hugging. "Mom," he whispered. She hugged him back.

"Spencer. I can't believe my little boy is married." She turned to Emily. "Take good care of him," she said, her lip trembling a little.

Emily linked her arm through his. "I will," she said, then reached out and hugged Diana with one arm.

Elizabeth came up. "Spencer, is this your mother?" she asked.

"Oh, yes…Mom, I'd like you to meet Elizabeth Prentiss, Emily's mother. Elizabeth, this is my mother, Diana Reid."

"It's so nice to meet you," Elizabeth said, holding out her hand, smiling warmly.

His mother shook it, edging closer to him, a little shy. "It's nice to meet you," she said, carefully. She glanced at him, that look in her eyes that told him she'd had about as much as she could take of new people and new situations and she'd very much like to go home now.

"She needs to get back," he said to Emily, in a low voice.

"We'll take her," she said.

Reid looked down at her. "Really?"

"It'll only take a few minutes, and it's important."

He sighed. "Thanks." He turned to his mother. "Mom, we're going to take you back to Bennington now."

"Oh…good. Thank you, Spencer."

"Just one minute, okay?" She nodded. Garcia had appeared at her side and sat down with her.

He turned around and caught Hotch's eye. He came over. "What is it?"

"Emily and I are going to run my mother back to Bennington. Won't take more than half an hour, then we'll be back."

"It's just as well. I think there are plans being cooked up," Hotch said, smirking and glancing over his shoulder to where JJ, Rossi and Morgan had their heads together.

"Oh, God. Don't let them get too crazy, okay?"

"No promises." Hotch clapped him on the shoulder. "See you shortly."

He turned back to his mother; Emily was talking to hers. She snagged him by the arm. "Spencer, Mom and Grandma are going to catch a flight this afternoon."

"Oh, you can't stay?" he said to his new mother-in-law.

"I'm afraid not. This event was rather sudden," she said, but good-naturedly.

"I know, Mom. We're sorry. We're both just glad you could make it."

"We are still having your reception at the house though, right?"

"We'll be there."

"All right. Come by when you get back home. Are you going on a honeymoon trip?"

Emily looked at him and he shrugged. "We hadn't really discussed it," he said.

"Maybe we can get away for a couple of days," Emily said.

Elizabeth reached out and grasped Emily's hands. "I wish your father were here," she said, quietly.

Emily nodded. "Me, too." She hugged her mother again and they bid their goodbyes. Emily sighed and Reid saw her dab at the corner of her eyes. He put an arm around her shoulders.

"You okay?" he murmured into her ear.

She nodded. "Yeah." She smiled up at him. "Nothing can be bad about today."

* * *

They got Diana back to Bennington and promised to come see her again before leaving town. Getting back in the rental car, Reid shut the driver's door and just sat there for a moment. Emily put on her seat belt and checked her cell phone and then looked at him, realizing that he wasn't starting the car. "Spencer?" He turned and looked at her. "Are you okay?"

He nodded. "Yeah. I just – I'm feeling a little overwhelmed."

"You and me both." She put her hand on the back of his neck and rubbed it. "You're a mass of knots."

He let his head fall forward under her ministrations. "That feels good." He sighed. "I just know that they're concocting some kind of plan for us tonight."

"I know."

"How horrible would it be if I just drove us back to our hotel and we turned off our cell phones, got in bed and didn't come out for a few days?"

"That sounds divine."

"Our friends came all this way, I know they want to share this with us, but damn it – I just want to be alone with my wife." He smiled at her.

"You're alone with me now," she said. She leaned across the console and kissed him, slowly and with the promise of things to come.

"You're making it worse."

"We'll have plenty of time to be alone. Let's celebrate with our friends tonight."

He sighed. "Whatever you say, Mrs. Reid."

_

* * *

_

The bellhop brought them to a set of double doors. Reid had never stayed in a hotel room with double doors before. He was a little apprehensive about what lay behind them, but mostly anticipating what he was hoping to do with (and to) the woman by his side once he got through them.

On their way back from Bennington, they'd been instructed to meet their friends at Michael Mina, where they'd been wined and dined courtesy of Rossi's platinum card. The restaurant, accustomed to newlyweds coming there to celebrate, had given them pretty good champagne on the house and a small wedding cake courtesy of their pastry chef, which Reid thought was awfully nice of them, even if he knew that they probably had dozens of the things stashed in a walk-in fridge somewhere.

Reid sat at the table next to his wife (as his brain kept referring to her with amazement and awe), his eyes drawn over and over again to the new ring on his finger. He'd never been much for jewelry and it felt very…_present._ He imagined he'd get used to it. Just as he'd get used to the fact that he was her husband now.

_I don't know if I'll ever get used to that._

Their friends had been in high spirits, toasting and telling stories, laughing and teasing and making off-color jokes. Even Rossi had gotten into the spirit of things. Hotch had sat back watching, but he'd smiled, and that was just about all anybody could hope for.

While they were eating their wedding cake, the real surprise had been sprung. "We know you haven't had time to think about a honeymoon," Garcia said.

"We've barely had time to remember to eat," Emily said.

"That's why it's good to have resourceful friends," Garcia went on. "You are not going back to that other hotel tonight. We had your stuff moved here to one of the penthouse suites where you will spend your wedding night in the lap of luxury."

Reid's jaw had dropped. "Oh, you guys," Emily said. "You don't have to…"

"But wait! There's more!" Garcia crowed, then looked over at Rossi.

He'd harrumphed, like a crotchety old uncle embarrassed to be caught in an act of kindness. "I have a little cabin on Lake Tahoe. It isn't the Bellagio but it's comfortable and it's private. JJ's arranged for the jet to fly you two up there for a long weekend. I've called ahead to the caretaker, it'll be fully stocked and ready for you. There'll be a car waiting for you at the airport to take you there and there's a rental car at the cabin in case you want to go into Reno or something."

"I hope you don't mind," JJ said. "Before we left DC I went to your house and packed you each a bag so you'll have clothes for the cabin. The bags are on the jet."

Reid felt Emily grab his hand. They were both speechless. He found his voice first. "Dave…guys…I don't know what to say." He found himself getting a little choked up that they'd gone to all that trouble. "The expense…I don't know if we can accept it."

"Please," Rossi said. "The cabin upkeep costs me the same whether you're in it or not. As for the rest, this is an expense that's an actual pleasure. And you deserve it."

"Hear, hear," Morgan said.

Emily looked around at them. "That's quite a wedding present," she said, sounding a little hoarse. "Thank you."

"You can thank us by having a wonderful time," JJ said.

"And by not stumbling across any serial killers while you're up there," Morgan added. Everyone laughed.

"And by not sparing one single thought for us or the job or anything related to it for four days," Hotch said. "Just take the time. It's important." He met each of their eyes in turn and Reid felt the weight of Hotch's experience, and how much he didn't want their marriage to go the way his had gone.

"We will," Emily said, leaning against his shoulder. "Thank you."

After dinner, everyone had been in a euphoric mood, even Reid, to the point that when visiting some of the Bellagio's nightclubs had been suggested, it had sounded like a grand idea to him. The way he was feeling, he'd gladly go along on a trip to Siberia as long as he got to go with his new wife by his side. So they'd gone and had some drinks, taken some pictures, Morgan and Garcia had danced, Rossi and Hotch had played elder statesmen, JJ had taken reams of photos and told every person they met what they were celebrating. Reid had never been congratulated by so many total strangers in his life.

But eventually he and Emily had looked at each other and known that they were more than ready to be alone together, so they'd taken their leave of their friends with hugs and kisses and handshakes and knowing winks. Somehow a bellhop appeared to escort them to their swanky new accommodations and now here they stood, in front of these double doors.

The bellhop opened the door with a flourish. Reid heard Emily suck in a breath. "Holy cow," she said.

Reid walked in, gaping. He felt like a high-roller or some kind of rock star in this place. Two stories high, floor to ceiling windows looking out over the Strip, a spiral staircase going up to the elevated bedroom loft over the fireplace pit and lounge beneath. "I feel like I'm in a Frank Sinatra movie," he murmured. Emily was turning in a circle, taking it all in.

"Hey, chocolate!" she exclaimed, heading for a silver tray that had been laid out on the bar. "Ooh, and champagne!" she said, pulling a bottle out of a hi-hat.

Reid reached into his pocket to tip the bellhop, but was waved off. "Mr. Rossi has taken care of everything, Dr. Reid," he said. "Enjoy your evening."

"Thank you," Reid said, as the bellhop left, closing the door behind him.

"This is serious," Emily was saying around a mouthful of chocolate truffle. "C'mere. You have to try this."

They moved the tray to the fireplace pit and ended up sitting cross-legged amid the pillows, shoes kicked off, scarfing down chocolates and strawberries and drinking champagne directly from the bottle. "I bet they have glasses around here somewhere," Reid commented, taking another swig.

"We don't need no stinking glasses," Emily said, giggling. She shook her head, taking the bottle from him. She took a bit of a too-enthusiastic drink and bubbles spurted on her face. "Oh, geez," she said. She looked down at herself. "God, I'm trashy." He reached out and wiped champagne off her neck with his sleeve. She watched his face as he did it. "Your wife is trashy, you know that?"

"Well, that is why I picked her."

And just like that, the mood in the room went from playful and chocolatey to thick and smoldery. Emily's gaze went heavy. Reid's fingers stroked her cheek long past the need to wipe away champagne from her skin. She pushed the tray and bottle aside and climbed into his lap, lacing her fingers together behind his neck. "I can't believe we're married," she whispered.

"It's true. We've got the license to prove it. And the rings," he said, holding up his left hand.

"Seems like yesterday we were in that hotel room in Minnesota."

"In relative terms, it might as well have been yesterday. On even a modest geologic scale, the span of our relationship is no more than the blink of an eye."

"I guess a lot can happen when you blink."

He nodded. "Your whole life can change."

She sighed. "I need to ask you something."

"Okay."

"Do you think this would have happened anyway? Say, if I hadn't gone with you to Minnesota for Niedermeier's interview. Would we still be here?"

"No. We wouldn't be right here, right now. Things would have unfolded in a different sequence of events. But – I think we would still be somewhere, sometime."

She smiled. "You really think something would have happened between us, no matter what?"

He nodded. "Yes. I do. The fact that it happened then implies that the potential was always there. If it hadn't been that moment, there would have been another one." He sighed. "Or maybe I just don't want to think about the existence of a set of circumstances in which it never happened. Because I can't imagine not having you in my life."

"Good, because you're stuck with me now," she said, a flirty smirk on her lips.

Reid couldn't bring himself to match her joking tone. "Promise?" he said.

The smirk fell off her face. Emily looked into his eyes, her hands on his cheeks. "Yes. I promise."

He sighed, smiling, and with that, Spencer Reid pulled his wife close and kissed her, unhurried and soft, doing his best to put into his kiss everything he was feeling, which was quite a tall order given the untidy hodgepodge of emotions running through his head. She kissed back, wrapping herself around him, her lips wet with champagne and strawberry juice. After a few moments she pulled back and got to her feet, holding out one hand. "I'd like to go to bed with my husband now," she said, her voice a quiet, sensual purr.

Reid got up, then they linked their arms about each other's waists and headed up the stairs to the bedroom loft. The bed looked impossibly huge and soft; another fire burned up here, banked low and giving off a warm, inviting glow. Emily stepped away from him and put her hand on the dimmer switch, lowering all the lights in the room until the only illumination came from the fire and the two candles burning on the table by the side of the bed.

She returned to stand before him, taking his hands in hers. They looked into each other's eyes for a few silent beats, then Reid reached out and drew her into his arms. She wound her arms around his neck and hugged back. They melted against each other, holding tight, his head bowed down to her shoulder, his hands splayed over her back. He just wanted to hold her forever, hold her tight like this so he could feel the breath entering her body and the blood pulsing beneath her skin. For what felt like ages they stood there in silence, embracing. He craved the contact, like he needed it to acclimate his heart to what they were to each other now. It had all happened so fast, his brain had hardly had time to catch up.

Emily's hands were moving in slow arcs over his upper back, her head on his shoulder with her face turned in toward his neck. Eventually, he had to see her face again and he pulled back slightly, sliding his hands up to cup her jaw. She smiled up at him and tilted her head up to meet him as he bent to kiss her. It was a slow, gentle kiss in no particular rush, because now, they had all the time in the world.

They undressed each other, taking their sweet time. Emily unknotted his tie and unbuttoned the first two buttons of his shirt, then bent and kissed the hollow of his throat. He bent and picked up each of her feet, pulling off her shoes and rubbing her instep before placing them back on the ground. She pushed his jacket off his shoulders, her hands following it up and over his shoulders and around to his back. He pulled the straps of her dress off, letting them fall loose down her arms, his hands caressing her soft skin where he'd bared it.

He was down to just his pants before she finally turned around so he could unzip her dress. He was holding his breath, he realized, as if this were the first time he would see her naked, as if they were Victorian lovers just meeting each other's bodies and wondering how they'd hold it together when the mystery was at long last revealed. He made slow work of it, easing the zipper down. She stood still and let him pull it off her arms and down her waist until the dress was pooled around her feet. She stepped out of it and turned around, now only in her underwear. She reached up and kissed him, and suddenly everything sped up. The slow, striptease sensuality vanished and was replaced by want and need. Her bare skin beneath his hands felt flushed, her nipples hard against his bare chest. Her hands fumbled at his belt and finally got it off, then she undid his pants and all but tore them down his legs. Reid hauled her against him, his hands sliding down to grip her ass, her kisses hungry and demanding now.

He pushed her toward the bed and they both tumbled onto it, sweat springing to Reid's skin now as his hands groped her breasts and dipped between her legs. He felt her slim fingers on his erection through his boxers, which she quickly got him out of. He hooked his fingers in the elastic of her underwear and slid them off her and came back to her arms with nothing now left between them. Her eyes were clouded, his breath was quick, and he knew he ought to take his time but he just wanted to be inside her.

As if she'd heard him, she nodded. "Quick," she whispered. "We have all night." She pulled him between her legs. He looked down into her face. She brushed his hair back, smiling. "I love you," she whispered.

"I love you," he replied, as he slid into her. Emily sighed, her eyelids fluttering, her fingers tightening on his shoulders. He held her eyes, seeing himself reflected there and marveling at how impossible it seemed that at this moment she thought of nothing and no one but him. He smiled, relaxing into the familiar warmth of their joining. "Too late," he murmured.

A slight furrow appeared between her eyebrows. "Too late for what?"

"We've consummated. Can't get that annulment now."

She giggled. "Darn it all." She kissed him hard. "Well, if the deed is done…you better consummate the _hell_ out of me, Dr. Reid."


	15. Chapter 15

Sunlight woke him. The bedroom was filled with it. He blinked and oriented himself. _Oh yeah. Swank penthouse. Wedding night._ He turned and looked to his side and saw his brand-new wife lying on her stomach, her bare back smooth and pale, her hair a tangled mess around her head. He doubted his own looked much better.

They'd really wrung each other dry during the night, physically and emotionally. The bed was in total disarray. A few plates and glasses were on the floor and on the night tables, relics of a three a.m. room service call for sustenance. He vaguely recalled answering the door wearing nothing but a sheet wrapped around his waist, signing the bill for a smirky waiter who'd no doubt seen many such scenes in his career bringing people food at three a.m. The waiter's knowing look turned into an out-and-out grin when Emily had called Reid's name in a sexy, low voice. "I'm waiting," she'd said, sounding like something out of a naughty sex comedy.

"Gotta go," Reid had said, grabbing the tray and shoving the bill at the vastly amused waiter and slamming the door right in his face.

He was dying for a shower. He hadn't gotten much sleep, neither of them had. His eyes felt sandy and puffy; there had been some mutual weepiness around five, by which time they'd damn near rubbed each other raw, physically and emotionally, and words had come tumbling out, uncensored in their fatigue and the heightened emotions of the night. She'd said things he'd longed to hear but feared he never would, he'd confessed things he'd sworn he'd keep to himself for fear of scaring her off with the intensity of his feelings. But lack of sleep was hardly a pressing concern. They were on their way to a private cabin where they could sleep around the clock if they wished.

He got up and went to the giant twenty-foot window in the suite. It felt profoundly weird to stand naked in front of a window like this, although he knew it was one-way glass, and anyway they were on the fortieth floor. Sunlight wasn't kind to Vegas. It made what was nocturnally glamorous tacky, and cheapened the illusion which by night masked the essential phoniness of…well, everything.

He wasn't sure how long he stood there, looking out on his first morning as a married man, but the next thing he knew he was feeling her hands slide up his back, then around his waist. He leaned back into her and felt her kiss him between the shoulder blades. "This is a nice view to wake up to," she murmured.

"Yeah. You can see the mountains from here, almost all the way to…"

"That's not what I meant," she said, giving his ass a squeeze.

He blushed a little. "Oh." He pulled her around to his side and put his arms around her, kissing her forehead. "I was just going to come get you up."

"Funny. I was thinking the same thing," she said, a glint in her eye. One of her hands snuck down and wrapped around his cock, which immediately sprang to attention. He opened his mouth to say that they had to get going soon, but she shushed him. "I know. We have to shower and dress and eat and pack and go say goodbye to your mother before we leave, and then we'll be on the jet, and then in a car, and we probably won't get to the cabin until late afternoon. Come on, Mr. Prentiss. I'm a newlywed. You can't expect me to go that long without getting some from my sexy new husband." She kissed his chin, then moved her mouth down under his jawline.

Reid's eyes fell closed as she stroked him. "Come here," he finally choked out, moving her in front of him. He pulled her back against his chest, hands on her hips. Emily braced her hands on the window glass and arched her back; he bent his legs and thrust into her.

"Ohhhh, yeah," she groaned. "Like that. Hard like that."

He felt a little thrill of exhibitionism to be having sex with her here in front of this giant window with the whole Strip spread out beneath them. He could imagine that anyone in a nearby building could look across and see them, see her and how beautiful she was, and see that she was his and that he could do this with her because she was wearing his ring and he was wearing hers, so take a good, long look.

Of course nobody could see in. But it was still a bit of a thrill.

They moved together, gradually shifting closer to the window until she was pressed up against it, her breasts flattened against the glass, her fingers splayed on its clear surface, and he could only imagine what that would look like from the other side. She reached back with one hand and gripped his hip, holding him tighter against her, grinding herself down on him until she gave a jerk and a shudder and yelled, gasping and saying something that might have been his name or might not even have been English. He felt her body pulse and grow wetter around him and his pace quickened, his hands rising to cup her breasts and feel where they touched the window glass. He bent and sealed his mouth on her neck, sucking hard, wanting to leave a mark. She held his head to her tight and rode the tide of his thrusts until he came with a groan, his hands going to grab her hips and yank them back into his groin.

She turned around and kissed him wildly, her mouth hot and demanding and reckless. He grabbed at her, his hand getting tangled in her bed-mussed hair, pushing her back against the window again. Gradually they calmed, nuzzling at each other's faces, rubbing their cheeks together, his stubble rasping against her smooth skin. "Mmm," she said, smiling. "God, if people only knew what sex with you was really like – I'd have to keep you locked up in the basement."

"It wouldn't be like this with anybody else," he murmured. "It's only you, Mrs. Reid." He kissed her gently, feeling her smile against his lips. He looked into her eyes. "Only you," he whispered, his meaning a little different, as she could tell, no doubt.

She sighed. "Well, now we definitely need those showers."

* * *

When Reid and Emily got off the jet at the Reno airport, there was a man in a uniform waiting on the tarmac. "Dr. Reid? Ms. Prentiss?" he said.

"Yes?" Emily said.

"I'm to drive you to Mr. Rossi's cabin," he said, motioning to the limousine sitting nearby.

Reid rolled his eyes. "Dave," he muttered. "Leave it to Dave."

"C'mon," Emily chided him, as the driver fetched their bags. "I think it's sweet of him. And it'll be kind of fun to ride in style."

"It isn't _my_ style. Or yours."

"Live a little. It's our honeymoon."

Reid gave in and climbed into the limousine. It was well stocked. Emily poured him a brandy. He eyed it suspiciously. "Little early, isn't it?"

"Not for us, our bodies are still on East Coast time, where it is currently six p.m."

"The general consensus is that it takes the body as many days to adjust as there are hours difference. It's a three-hour difference and we've been here four days, so we are acclimated to this time zone."

She was giving him her well-practiced "you are exasperating but I forgive you for it" expression. "Just take the damn brandy, Reid."

He did.

The drive took about an hour. They spent most of it making out in the back seat. Their clothing stayed on, but Reid did get hands up her blouse and she got hers down his pants. The sound of gravel beneath the tires signaled that they were getting close, so they separated and smartened themselves up.

They got out of the limo and found themselves in a dense pine forest. The air was so crisp and clear it felt like it could cut you, and everything smelled clean. Emily took a deep breath. "Oh, man, I miss that smell," she said.

Rossi's cabin was not as rustic as he'd made it sound. It wasn't huge, two bedrooms, a main room and a kitchen, but it was tastefully decorated and comfortable, with all the amenities. The hot tub sat on a wide wraparound porch. "This is nice," Reid said, after they'd gotten their bags from their driver and bid him farewell. "Not sure why people would spend millions of dollars for a place out here, though."

Emily came in and took his hand. She pulled him out to the porch. Reid's eyes widened, and he had a literal experience of the common and usually exaggerated idiom "it took his breath away." The view was spectacular. Lake Tahoe was spread before them like a mirror, reflecting the mountains and the trees and the intense blue of the autumn sky.

"That's why," Emily murmured.

* * *

They unpacked and fell into one of the beds for a nap, barely bothering to undress, the stress and activity of the past thirty-six hours catching up to them. The sky was turning purple by the time they woke up, hungry and stiff from traveling and their previous' night's exertions.

They made dinner in the cabin's small kitchen, finding sandwich fixings in the fridge along with a wide array of other foods, many of them suitable for grilling, and a fair amount of alcohol. "Looks like Rossi wants us to get plastered every night," Emily said, eyeing the cupboard full of wine. There was white wine in the fridge, and plenty of beer, with more waiting to be chilled.

"I'd prefer to take it easy on the booze," he said. "Alcohol has a negative impact on the human male's ability to sustain an erection."

"Well, we can't have that. Looks like it's Shirley Temples for you, Dr. Reid."

"On the other hand, in moderate amounts it can lower inhibitions and enhance relaxation, both of which are conducive to satisfying sexual activity."

"Lower inhibitions, huh? You thinking of conducting another of your experiments?" she said, her eyes twinkling.

He shrugged, smirking. "If my test subject is agreeable."

"She just might be." She bent and kissed him before joining him at the small dining table in the kitchen. "Too bad we can't do our thing here."

"I know. It's not like we knew we were going to be here on our honeymoon."

"We could always drive into Reno. I'm sure there's a shop that would have what we need."

He looked across the table at her. "There are other things. Things that don't require a supply excursion."

She grinned. "Keep talking."

* * *

They finished the evening in the hot tub, its hot water and jets soothing their frazzled nerves and sore muscles. Emily leaned against his chest and they let their feet float, tangling their legs together. "Three more days of this," she murmured. "I may never want to leave."

"By the time three days have gone by, you'll be itching to get back to work."

"Hmm. Probably. But we should plan a proper honeymoon. Someday."

"I like this. It's – appropriate. Last-minute wedding, thrown-together honeymoon. Planning never seems to go so well for us. There always seems to be a case that comes along or some kind of crisis that messes it up."

She was quiet for a moment. Reid could feel a little tension come into her body, and he knew that she was going to talk about something she didn't particularly want to discuss but felt she had to. "Reid – I know we were both relieved when Strauss let us stay on the team together."

"I know I was."

"Oh, so was I. Don't get me wrong. But we've never really talked about how we're going to do that. We just assumed we'd have to split up, and then we didn't, and then we had cases and then this trip and now we're married and we've never talked about it."

"About what, exactly?"

She shifted around so she could look at him. Her face was flushed from the hot tub's heat. "I have nightmares sometimes, you know. Where I see you get shot, or kidnapped, or when I see you again in that hospital bed when we were afraid you'd die of anthrax…" She trailed off and swallowed hard.

"I have those nightmares, too. About you, I mean," he said, holding her hand underneath the bubbling water.

"I know we've been working together and dating for awhile, but – I don't know, everything's different now. It's going to be hard watching you go into dangerous situations."

"Are you saying you'd rather us not be on the team together?"

"No! That's not what I'm saying."

"If you were, that would be okay. If you think it'll be too hard to stay on the team together, then maybe we ought to voluntarily separate. At work, that is."

She shook her head. "I don't want that. At least when we're together I _know_ what kind of trouble you're getting yourself into," she said, a little smile on her face. "If I was in another department, knowing you were out there but not knowing what was going on, always wondering – that would be worse."

He nodded. "We just can't let it affect our work."

She sighed. "I don't think I can pretend that I don't love you, that you aren't important to me in a different way than the others."

"No one's asking you to. We just have to do our jobs as we always have."

She slid a little closer. "I will. But you ought to know that if it ever came down to a choice between you and doing my job – well, you win, hands down. I can get another job. I can't get another Spencer Reid. They only made one," she said, a rueful smile creasing her lips. Reid just looked down at her, feeling a lump rising in his throat. She caressed his cheek. "They only made one," she repeated, in a low whisper. "And I feel like the luckiest woman in the world, because he is mine."

"Emily," he murmured, pulling her close to kiss her. She slipped onto his lap, her arms going around his neck as she kissed him back. He drew back a little. She saw his thoughtful expression and waited for him to speak. "You know me. Better than anyone ever has, better even than my mother. You know I don't believe in – well, much." She nodded. He met her eyes. "You're the first thing that ever made me want to take anything on faith. And that's hard for me. Harder than you know."

"I know," she whispered, her hand gently stroking his chest.

"I wish I could tell you that it'll be easier now that we're married, but I'm afraid it's going to get harder, because every day that goes by I remember less and less how I ever lived without you, and every day the thought of losing you is more and more intolerable. I'm trying to hang on to that faith, but I'm not used to trusting that." He sighed. "But I do trust_you._ And I trust what we have."

She nodded. "I know you do. You know how I know?" He shook his head. "Because trust is the scariest thing in the world for you, and you fought that so you could be with me."

"I would have done whatever I had to do to be with you," he rasped, hearing himself a little hoarse with suppressed emotion.

Emily smiled and touched his face. "All you ever really had to do was be you."

He didn't know how to respond to that, so he just pulled her into another kiss. She came into his arms gladly, tucking herself close. He felt the world fly away, leaving them to their solitude, and he knew that he'd never have to be truly alone again.

* * *

_four months later_

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Reid stood third back in the row of groomsmen, behind Will's best friend Marcus and Morgan. He felt like some kind of painted action figurine in a role-playing game, outfitted in the same exact tuxedo as his fellow groomsmen, and wondered again whose brilliant idea all these nuptial trappings had been. He suspected that the bridal industry had a nefarious hand in it somehow.

He looked across and caught Emily's eye; she winked at him. She was also in the third position, behind JJ's sister Carol and Garcia. JJ had considerately lined everyone up so that Reid got to walk his own wife down the aisle, a novelty considering that their own wedding hadn't featured any of the pageantry of this one, to his endless relief.

This one was a traditional American wedding extravaganza. Not as large as some. About a hundred guests. It still seemed enormous to Reid. Five attendants on each side. Behind Reid were two of Will's cop buddies from New Orleans, behind Emily were two college friends of JJ's. Henry sat in the front row with JJ's mother and father. Reid could see Hotch and Rossi sitting with the guests, Rossi beaming a proud smile, Hotch looking slightly less stern than usual.

He had to admit that watching Emily walk up the aisle had been – affecting. She looked jaw-droppingly beautiful in her strapless bridesmaid's gown, her hair up to show off her elegant neck and shoulders. She'd smiled at him as she walked to the front of the church, and for a moment he could imagine that she was coming down the aisle to marry him. Which she had already done, of course, but somehow in that moment, he almost got the point of all the pomp and circumstance. Morgan had elbowed him discreetly. "Mouth closed, pretty boy," he'd whispered. "Ogle the bridesmaids later."

The bride and groom were saying their vows now. They'd written their own, a task Reid had always been profoundly glad to have escaped – but now, listening to JJ and Will, he wondered if he'd been wrong about that. They weren't lapsing into treacly platitudes, but had each composed simple declarations that were heartfelt and meaningful. It might have been nice to stand before their friends and tell Emily exactly how he felt and why he was taking these vows with her. Then again, they'd had such conversations in private, and to his mind that was where they belonged.

Garcia was dabbing at her eyes. He looked at Emily again and found her gaze fixed on him already, her own eyes a little wet. He kept his eyes on hers for the rest of the ceremony. Hearing their friends take their vows and seeing them exchange their rings was a powerful reminder of their own wedding, the vows they'd been living with for a few months now, for better or worse, to love and to cherish.

Her lips moved silently. "522," he saw her mouth.

He smiled. "523," he mouthed back.

* * *

They sat together at the reception. Dinner, drinks, chatter, laughter, numerous glass-clinking kisses for the newlyweds. When it was time for speeches, JJ got up first. "I know it's not typical for the bride to talk," she said, "but what the hell. We've done everything else backwards." Laughter. "Some of you have asked Will and I why we finally decided to do this after all this time. I know there are those in this room who thought we never would – you know who you are." More laughter, good-natured and more boisterous than the joke really deserved. "Well, I'll tell you what made us decide – it was our friends, Spencer and Emily," she said, turning and pointing to Reid and Emily.

Reid sat up a little straighter, surprised. This was the first he was hearing of this. Emily glanced at him, eyes wide, looking just as surprised as he was.

"I can see that they're surprised to hear that," JJ said, grinning at them. Reid nodded, his arm around Emily's shoulders, and a light chuckle ran over the guests. "Those of you who don't know them, here's the short version. Spencer and Emily got engaged, and they went to Las Vegas to visit family, and while they were there, they decided they couldn't go another day without being married to each other, so they up and got married right then. I stood and watched them say the words, and they looked so happy, and so – decided. They'd chosen each other and it was a done deal. I started to wonder what was holding me back. I knew Will was the guy for me. I knew I'd chosen him. So what was stopping me from declaring it? From standing up and saying 'I choose you.'" She was getting a little choked up. Emily reached across Reid's lap and grasped his hand tightly. JJ cleared her throat and went on. "I guess I was afraid of it, a little bit. I don't know why. But seeing my friends do this made me realize I didn't want to go another day without being married to Will, either. So here we are. Thanks, guys. I love you both."

Emily blew her a kiss as she sat down again, but Reid was almost beyond response. "That's so sweet," Emily murmured to him. She frowned. "Honey, what? You look like you're about to cry."

"Oh, it's just – what kind of Bizarro World is this where I am a role model for other people's relationships?" he said, smiling ruefully.

"Cheer up. We've only been married four months. You have plenty of time to be clueless and unfortunate."

"Oh, good. I better get going on that." He leaned and kissed her smiling lips. He drew back slightly, staying close. "I'd do it again in a heartbeat, you know. Marry you."

She rubbed her nose across his briefly. "Me, too."

* * *

_seven months later_

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* * *

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"Which tie?"

Emily turned around from packing her own suitcase and looked. "That one," she said, motioning to the one he was holding in his left hand.

"Oh," Reid said, frowning. "I like the other one."

She sighed, exasperated. "Then why did you ask me?"

"I don't trust my own judgment."

"Wait, for which sweater? The one with the argyle?"

"No, the one with the stripes."

"Oh! In that case yeah, the other one."

"Maybe I ought to wear a suit."

"No one would recognize you. Sweater and jacket, that's your – what's the word? Your signature look," she said, putting air quotes around the term with her fingers.

"I have a signature look?"

"You've given this talk a million times."

"Twenty-six times. That's not remotely a million."

She rolled her eyes. "I was employing hyperbole to make my point."

"Emily, I have told you a billion times not to exaggerate."

He waited. She paused and then looked at him. "Did you just make an ironic joke?"

He grinned. "See what I did there? Liked that, didn't you?"

She laughed. "Yeah, I see what you did there."

Reid zipped up his carry-on, sighing and sitting on the edge of the bed. "I'm so glad you're coming with me, Em. I hate these conferences. The stale air and the bad coffee and the generic hotel rooms."

"Of course I'm coming. I come with you whenever I can. You come with me when I talk."

"It isn't fair, though. I give talks more often than you do."

"Well, anyone who claims that marriage is fair never had to live with a man who never forgets anything."

He frowned. "I thought that was a point in my favor."

"Ironically, it only makes me feel that much stupider and more inadequate when I _do_ forget things because of my lack of a superbrain." He must have looked downcast at this because she came over to him and ruffled his hair, then kissed him warmly. "I love you anyway, don't give me that kicked-puppy look."

Reid picked up their travel itinerary. "I hate Dallas. It's so…Dallas."

"I know. Can't they hold these conferences somewhere awesome, like – oh, I don't know. Sedona? Or Aspen?"

"That one in Seattle wasn't so bad."

"No, it wasn't. I still have nightmares from the one in Cleveland, though. I wake up shaking in terror of being trapped in a never-ending convention center that goes on forever and I can't find the door." She zipped up her bag and set it next to his by the door. "We better go to bed. You know you get cranky when you travel without enough sleep."

"Don't talk about me like I'm a toddler, please."

"How else would you describe it? You get cranky. Own it." She took off her t-shirt and jeans and put on her nightshirt.

Reid glumly started undressing. "If I'm cranky it's because I'm imagining all the other things we could be doing with this weekend. Fun things. Relaxing things. Things that don't involve a PowerPoint presentation."

"C'mon, we always work in some fun at these conferences. We may have to spend our days attending lectures where nothing of consequence or interest will happen, but then we'll go out and have a nice dinner and profile the other diners. I'll sex you up in a hotel room, that's always fun."

He brightened a little. "It's fun at home, too."

She smiled flirtatiously at him. "Then hurry up getting naked, Dr. Reid, get your cute ass in this bed and service your wife. Chop chop."

"Yes, ma'am," he smirked, tossing off his clothes with a little more urgency. Tomorrow they'd have to get on a plane and fly to Dallas, where, as Emily predicted, nothing of interest would likely happen, and they'd come home and normal life would resume, but right now it was just them in their house and his sexy wife was holding out her arms to invite him into their bed, and Reid thought that, conference or no conference, his life couldn't get much more perfect.

* * *

_Emily Prentiss had been to so many conferences that they were all a blur…_

_How to Fight Loneliness, chapter 1_

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THE END

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_Thank you all for all the kind words and comments. I'm glad so many of you were interested in Hobart and Mack; I may incorporate them into a Casefiles story in the future._

_But here's the brutal honesty part. I don't know how much more CM fic I'll be writing. Other demands on my time are encroaching, I've got other things going on. I do have some more stories begun but I can't promise that they'll be finished, and I won't post an unfinished story. So I still have hopes to finish more CM stories but I don't want anyone to be waiting on tenterhooks. No promises, but still hopes._


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